


When HighFashionEliot Met QuentinReads

by PotteredUp



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Anal Sex, Bisexual Quentin Coldwater, Comment Flirting, Conventions, Crushes, Cyber sex, Dirty Talk, Eliot Waugh’s Canonically Huge Dick, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Miscommunication, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Nude Photos, Online Romance, References to Depression, Sexting, Texting, Vlogger AU, YouTube Conventions, Youtube AU, dance party, online bullying, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23346808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotteredUp/pseuds/PotteredUp
Summary: HighFashionEliot is a well-known fashion YouTuber with a huge audience and an even bigger personality. While taking a break from video editing late one night, the bleary-eyed content creator ends up finding a smaller niche channel where the cutest nerd he’d ever seen is enthusiastically rambling about a children’s fantasy series called Fillory and Further. He certainly wasn’t expecting to immediately fall for QuentinReads over the internet, but one flirty comment couldn’t hurt, right?A non-magic AU where Quentin and Eliot are YouTubers.COMPLETE
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 85
Kudos: 309





	1. YouTube Crush

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt by porcelain-magic on Tumblr that happened to be the perfect Venn diagram of my interests. I also wanted to credit @ThreeNicotinePatches for naming HighFashionEliot’s channel!

As the night crept past, Eliot Waugh found himself yet again pulling an all-nighter to finish editing a sponsored video in time for its deadline. Being a full-time fashion YouTuber certainly had its perks - free clothes, adoring fans, tickets to exclusive events, and getting paid to pursue his passion. But when it’s three o’clock in the morning and he’s been listening to his own voice for the last six hours, of course he’s going to end up distracted by the internet. 

You wouldn’t think that someone who had spent his entire professional life on YouTube would be so easily seduced by the charms of its recommended videos algorithm, but here he was. Eliot found himself forty minutes deep in a chain of video content on a wide variety of topics that were only marginally appealing to his usual tastes. 

He wasn’t sure why YouTube’s algorithm was suddenly recommending him BookTube videos about a children’s fantasy series called Fillory and Further, but once he saw the face on the thumbnail, he couldn’t resist at least clicking the link. 

“So um, hi! Today on QuentinReads, I’d like to recommend five books to read when you uh, you know, need a break from rereading the Fillory and Further series,” the hesitant voice filled with undeniable excitement rang out in Eliot’s headphones. 

Eliot considered the notion that there was something oddly familiar about having a total stranger looking directly at him through a camera, feeling the vibrations of their words in his ears. It’s truly no wonder that his own fans think they know him better than they actually do. When there’s no film crew, no director, and the vlogger is editing their own work, the medium feels more like a one-on-one conversation than it has any right to. And right now, something about having… is _Quentin Coldwater_ his real name? Having Quentin’s voice in his head, looking into his warm brown eyes through the glowing screen in the darkness felt _intimate_ , somehow. 

“ _You’re_ cute,” Eliot purred out loud before he scrolled down and clicked the bold red SUBSCRIBE button just below the book recommendation list for Fillory fans. 

Quentin’s videos, Eliot soon learned, were nearly all like this. Each episode was super nerdy, unapologetically enthusiastic, and well thought-out. He even kept in just enough ums and pauses when editing, even though it was clear from his production value that the guy knew what he was doing. It was almost as if the cadence of his usual speech had become part of his personal brand by the time he learned to properly edit and he totally leaned into them rather than scrubbing his edits clean. Eliot, who usually spent hours carefully trimming his videos down from a long list of takes, found this to be endearing as hell. 

Just before finally deciding to go to bed, a bleary-eyed Eliot leaned forward and typed in his best attempt at a confidently flirty comment on a video called “I KNOW WHO THE WATCHERWOMAN IS”, whatever that means. He gave his reply a once-over, clicked the button to send it in, and shut his laptop before he could regret it. 

* * *

When Quentin Coldwater woke up the next morning, he opened his inbox to find six new unread messages from publishers offering to send him galleys in exchange for mentions in his videos and social posts. As always, most of them weren’t interested in paying for his time or the access to his audience. With a dejected sigh, Quentin accepted a few that he might consider reading regardless and tried not to feel too guilty about what that decision meant for his ability to pay rent. As obvious as it might sound for someone with a pretty well-known YouTube channel called QuentinReads, he loved books and simply couldn’t resist escaping into a good fantasy epic before it’s even released. Even if it meant he would be doing several days of work in exchange for it. 

He clicked over to another browser tab where he found the last eight hours’ worth of comments on his YouTube channel and that’s where things got interesting. After scrolling past the usual nods of approval, questions for his next Q&A, and ongoing book discussions, one particular comment caught his eye.

-

 **HighFashionEliot** _six hours ago_

I know next to nothing about Fillory and Further, but I could quite honestly listen to you talk about it for hours and remain interested. And I know from my own channel that telling strangers on the internet that they’re attractive can totally come off the wrong way, but I’m going to put aside my urge to keep my mouth shut because I need to tell you that you’re absolutely stunning when you talk about the things you love. 

-

Raising an eyebrow, Quentin took a few seconds to double check that he was looking at the comments on one of his own videos and hadn’t accidentally navigated to someone else’s channel. He hardly ever received comments like this, especially not ones that were this coherent. And even when he did, he usually shrugged them off because he rarely believed what they were telling him. For whatever reason, something about this one felt _real_. 

If they’d been face to face when Quentin received this particular compliment, Quentin would have struggled to form words in response, but luckily, typing took care and thought. Crafting a response from afar would give him a chance to really think about what to say back. 

After about a minute of panic as he contemplated responding, Quentin realized that he was getting all worked up over something when most people would just roll their eyes. Who even was this HighFashionEliot person? Then, he remembered a key and vital part of the comment Eliot had left - _the admirer mentioned that he had his own YouTube channel_. 

Quentin's ears were filled with the sound of his pounding heart and then the trackpad _click_ sound that followed when his body took over and navigated directly to this mysterious commenter's YouTube channel. And to his surprise, not only was HighFashionEliot extremely well-known on the platform, he was _beautiful_. He had this impeccably styled dark curly hair and his clothes were thoughtfully put together in every look-book video he posted. By the time Quentin found a video where Eliot was speaking (in this case, a Best Dressed list from a recent awards show), he was completely taken aback by his deep voice. 

For the next hour, Quentin combed through Eliot’s channel, trying to learn anything he could about him. HighFashionEliot shared fashion wisdom, thoughtfully critiqued award show red carpets, and created beautifully artful outfit of the day montages each week that featured clothing much more upscale than anything in Quentin’s closet. 

Quentin occasionally tabbed over to Eliot's comment on his own video just to remind himself that it was still there. The comment was so specific and thoughtful and flirty that Quentin couldn’t stop reading it over and searching desperately for an explanation other than what this appeared to be - someone seriously gorgeous and brilliant and _sexy_ found him attractive. 

Suddenly, his phone buzzed, breaking him out of his spiral and reminding him that he was almost late for his weekly brunch with Julia. He quickly hit the subscribe button on Eliot’s channel and struggled to pull on some jeans and a hoodie before dashing out of his apartment, temporarily forgetting that he still had not replied to the comment in question. 

* * *

“So the next time you’re rereading The Wandering Dune, pay extra attention to the scenes I mentioned and tell me what _you_ think.” This time, the voice of QuentinReads was coming right out of Eliot’s phone speakers as he sat on his bed. He had spent his spare time the last few days working his way through the backlog of nearly a hundred book-related videos on Quentin’s channel. 

Even though he felt a definite urge to leave more flirty comments, Eliot promised himself that he would fight it off, at least until he got some kind of positive response. If there were anything more creepy than being hit on by a stranger in YouTube comments, it would be receiving many unsolicited comments from said stranger. 

“What the hell?” Margo asked, snapping Eliot out of his bubble as she leaned against his doorway. 

He jumped a bit, hitting pause. “It’s not porn, Bambi,” he defended himself as she walked in and climbed onto his bed. 

“Porn, I’d understand. Why are you watching - ”

Eliot sighed, pretending to be bored. “It’s this BookTuber, he’s talking about some fantasy series with clocks and weird forests - ”

“I know what Fillory and Further is, El. I fucking loved those books as a kid,” Margo asserted. When the two of them spoke, their sentences often overlapped. The interruptions didn’t bother either of them. “What I don’t get is why _you_ have been up all night by yourself in here watching videos about a series you haven’t even read.” 

Eliot took one more look at Quentin’s face, which happened to be paused in a relatively flattering position, before turning the phone towards Margo. “Bambi, I have a crush,” he sighed. 

Margo raised her eyebrows and shrugged a little. “He’s not _that_ cute,” she quipped, reaching out her hand to take the phone and get a closer look. Eliot rolled his eyes and passed it over, then crossed his arms and leaned against the headboard with an undeniable smile on his face. He completely adored Margo, even when she gave him a hard time. Crushes came and went, but Margo would be there for him no matter what.

After taking a moment to watch the rest of the video, Margo handed back the phone. “Dude knows his shit. Whatever, I approve. Have you talked to him?” she said, shifting over to lay next to Eliot. 

“I allowed myself one flirty comment the other day and I haven’t heard back since,” he told her as he took a second to scroll to the next video. 

Margo leaned her head against Eliot’s shoulder as she pulled out her own phone to investigate. “Maybe he didn’t see it. Kid’s got a pretty engaged audience - there are some very extensive book discussions happening in these comments,” she mentioned once she’d had a chance to get a good look at the situation. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Eliot until now. Usually, his high subscriber count and verified channel badge brought his comments higher than most thanks to the Top Comments algorithm. He nearly always got a response back as a result, which is one reason why Quentin’s silence had been weighing on his mind. Maybe Quentin was creeped out. Maybe he was taken. 

Maybe he was straight. 

“Maybe I’ll leave him another, just in case,” Eliot considered, scrolling up to Quentin’s latest video and thinking about what to say. 

“Can’t hurt. I wonder if he’s checked out your channel yet,” Margo said, grinning. 

* * *

Meanwhile, Quentin was _certainly_ checking out Eliot’s channel. The longer he watched, the more drawn to Eliot he became. There was something undoubtedly magnetic about Eliot and Quentin found himself unable to look away. 

It took Quentin a surprisingly long time to realize that he had never actually responded to HighFashionEliot’s comment. Just as he found himself wondering why he hadn’t received any more comments from Eliot (he had been assuming that his admirer had already moved on to someone else), the thought occurred to him. He yelled “Shit!” and navigated back to the tab he hadn’t wanted to close for days, verifying that it was still there and he _had_ forgotten to reply. 

“God, what do I say?” Quentin anxiously combed a hand through his long hair and tapped his foot on the ground. He got up for a minute to pace around his room, then a chime sound called his attention back to his laptop. 

Another comment from HighFashionEliot had arrived, this time on QuentinReads' latest video, a bookstore haul from his recent trip to the Strand in New York City. Scrambling to get back into his desk chair as his heart nearly pounded out of his chest, Quentin clicked to open the full comment. 

-

 **HighFashionEliot** _one minute ago_

That bookstore looks amazing. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I would actually buy that tote bag and that is a seriously big deal because I thought I hated all tote bags. Also, you’re very cute. 

(Feel free to stop me if these comments are bothering you.)

-

Quentin’s heart was beating so fast that it probably would’ve made a jump for it and taken off down the hallway if his ribcage weren’t keeping it inside his chest. Eliot was watching his videos _right now_. Thinking about him right now. Quentin felt exposed, even though he knew logically that this person he’d never met couldn’t actually _see_ him struggling to respond. 

He didn’t want to say too much about how often the mysterious stranger had been occupying his mind. Luckily, Eliot’s latest comment left the perfect opportunity for him to say something back. Quentin's face turned bright red as he reached for the keyboard and carefully typed a quick response. He thought it would be just enough to indicate that he had seen the comments and that Eliot could continue posting them if he wanted. 

-

 **QuentinReads** _just now_

You’re not bothering me. 

-

* * *

That relatively noncommittal reply was all the encouragement Eliot needed to flirt freely and _often_ in the QuentinReads comment section for the next few weeks. Quentin’s response gave him a tiny spark of hope, and while Eliot was enjoying the challenge to come up with a frankly poetic amount of ways to tell his YouTube crush how nice-looking he was, Eliot tried to remain realistic about it. 

Even if this whole endeavor didn’t lead anywhere real, leaving an assortment of clever but romantic sentiments nestled among the book discussions, angry nerd trolls, and spambots felt like a valid use of his time. Quentin didn’t respond to them very often or leave any comments on _Eliot’s_ videos, so it was totally possible that he wasn’t actually interested; perhaps he was just being kind. Quentin didn’t seem like the type of person who would just tell someone to leave him alone. 

Then, one afternoon, when Eliot was sitting on the couch in their shared living room, Margo dropped a bit of a bomb like it wasn’t an enormous deal. 

Eliot was watching Quentin’s newest video and happily cooing out loud, “How does he always look so cute even when his hair is so unruly he has to put it in this tiny man bun?” He was just continually flabbergasted by the existence of this puppy of a man.

Then, it happened. “Don’t worry; I asked this morning. He’s getting a haircut tomorrow,” Margo said entirely too casually as she sat down across from him with her lunch. 

After nearly dropping his phone then placing it down gently on the couch next to him, Eliot used an extraordinary amount of restraint to ask, “When - when did this - have you been _talking_ to him... this whole time?” 

_Now_ Margo understood, so she replied as gently as she could. “Look, I followed him on instagram when you started talking about him all the time and one day I just direct messaged him on there to fight with him about a theory he had about the Chatwins and... we’ve kind of been chatting ever since.”

Eliot took a deep breath. “Just… nerd… talk?” he asked calmly. He had tensed up, sitting tall.

“I promise you won’t have to compete with me,” Margo said. “You know me; I’m not the type to swoon over attractive people on the internet.” 

He seemed satisfied with that answer, so he relaxed and sunk back into the couch, crossing his mile long legs. “Does he know you’re my roommate?” Eliot asked after he’d had a minute to consider the reality that he’d been crafting a campaign to win the attention of this YouTuber for weeks when he could’ve just _talked_ to him. 

“El, we really just chat about books. You’ve… never come up,” she admitted, putting down her plate and sitting up in her chair. 

Eliot’s heart sank. Maybe Quentin _hadn’t_ been curious enough to look up the videos of the person who had been two steps away from composing sonnets in his comments. 

Margo got up and sat next to Eliot on the couch. “Have you really never tried talking to him directly?” she asked. 

“Of course not,” Eliot said. Was it really that simple? Quentin responded to his comments so infrequently that he worried anything too forward would push him away. 

Pausing for a second, Margo reached out and rubbed her thumb along Eliot’s jaw. “Are you mad at me?” she murmured quietly, trying to hide how worried she was that her usual boldness might have taken her too far this time. 

“Bambi, of course not. It’s not your fault I somehow can’t get this guy out of my head. You know I would share him with you if you really wanted him,” Eliot mentioned, finally relaxing again and wrapping his arm around her. 

“I know,” Margo said back, sinking into Eliot’s side. “Maybe you should give it a shot, El.” 

* * *

Quentin and his freshly cut hair heard a knock on his apartment door as he was reading Eliot’s latest comment. In a few quick seconds, he had abandoned his laptop and opened the door to reveal his best friend Julia, who was standing out in the hallway carrying an extra studio light and a backpack.

“Hey Jules,” he said, stepping aside to invite her in. “Thanks for coming over to help me film.”

When Julia smiled, her whole face lit up. “You know I’ve got your back, Q. And it’s not every day someone’s channel reaches 200k subscribers,” she added as she walked in and lowered the filming equipment onto the carpet. She had her own channel and the two had grown up together, so she was the obvious choice when he needed an extra pair of hands on a project.

The corner of Q’s mouth curved up for a brief second. “Usually I can manage just fine on my own, but this idea - well, it would help to have someone behind the camera for once,” he said. He reached over for his tripod and started to set it up.

“I know what you mean. It can get pretty lonely too, huh?” Julia added, taking a stroll around Quentin’s room and looking at the bookshelves lined with, well, toys. Knickknacks from nerdconventions and PR packages and handmade prop replicas fans had sent to his PO Box.

Q nodded, clicking a DSLR into place on the tripod mount. “I don’t know if you’ve experienced this with your channel, but sometimes I’ll go days without directly speaking to anyone about something that isn’t my videos. It, I don’t know, it sneaks up on me. Because I’m busy, there’s always work piling up, and I don’t really think about it.”

“You know, I don’t live that far away. We could meet up and edit videos together once a week,” she said, reaching into Quentin’s camera bag next to his desk. “The 50mm prime, you think?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Yeah, that works.”

Julia handed over the lens, then as she turned back to the desk, something on Quentin’s open laptop screen caught her eye. “Who’s this creep,” she laughed, reading a particularly flirty comment from Eliot that was at the top of the open browser tab.

Q looked up after making sure the lens was securely attached to his camera, noticing what Julia was looking at. “Oh, no, he’s a vlogger too,” he waved a hand. “That’s just how he talks, um, well I guess I’ve never actually talked to him so I don’t really know for sure but for some reason it doesn’t make me uncomfortable?”

“Shit he’s hot,” Julia had Eliot’s channel open as soon as Quentin mentioned it. Then, she spun around, giving Q a positively glittering smile. “Wait, do you like this guy?”

At the suggestion, Quentin attempted to hide his blushing face behind the camera as he pretended to set up his manual settings for the video shoot. Really, he was swiping randomly at the touch screen and fucking up his white balance because his mind had gone all blurry and warm.

“How many of these comments has he left you? Quentin, you HAVE to talk to him,” she insisted, unable to wipe the grin off her face.

“What would I even say to him? He’s apparently really big in some circles, I can’t - he’s,” Q replied nervously, not even really sure what was holding him back. It’s not like Quentin had even heard of HighFashionEliot before he started receiving comments from him.

“Q, so are _you_ ,” Julia said. “He clearly likes you.”

And at that, a blushing mess of Quentin pointedly changed the subject so they could film this video.

* * *

One 200k subscriber thank you video later, the pair were ordering drinks at a bar in Brooklyn.

Julia held hers up once it arrived at their booth. “To Q, who now has two hundred thousand nerds waiting to watch everything he posts. May his channel continue to grow slowly enough that the assholes of the internet take their shitty comments elsewhere,” she said before clinking her glass against Quentin’s and taking a hearty sip.

Q laughed and took a drink, then put his IPA back on the table.

They spent the night chatting about high school friends they hadn’t seen in years and mutual internet acquaintances they’d collaborated with on YouTube. Quentin checked his phone whenever he had a free moment, looking to see if he'd received any new comments from Eliot.

Many drinks later, Quentin found himself back at home, locking up and heading to bed in his dark apartment. He clicked on the lamp by his bed after brushing his teeth to see that they had left his filming equipment all over the place on their way out to the bar, but he was too tired and stumbly to care. That would be a mess for hungover morning Quentin to clean up.

He toed off his shoes and shuffled out of his jeans, then climbed into bed. Just before shutting out his light, he checked his phone one more time and saw that HighFashionEliot had posted a new YouTube video while they were out.

It was another video look-book where Eliot was wearing a few particularly fantastic ensembles and modeling them around what looked like a college campus. In one clip, Eliot was draped over a stone wall wearing tight beige slacks, a waistcoat, and some fancy tie knot that Q definitely didn’t know the name of. The last thing Quentin remembered thinking about before he drifted off to sleep was how fucking good Eliot looked.

* * *

Eliot was washing dishes after the late, home-cooked dinner he’d prepared for Margo when he heard the sound of a chime coming from his phone. He dried his hands on a towel hanging near the sink and investigated the source of the mobile notification, seeing that it was a comment on his newest YouTube video.

-

 **QuentinReads** _one minute ago_

Fuck. 

-

Well, _that_ was interesting. El grinned, figuring that the end of a quiet night at home was as good a time as any to go for it. Slipping out of the kitchen, he went back to the table where Margo was tidying up.

“I’m gonna turn in, Bambi. See you in the morning?” Eliot said, gently pressing a kiss into Margo’s hair. His heart was pounding already at the idea of finally talking to Quentin.

She raised an eyebrow. “Should I ask?” Margo wondered out loud.

“I’ll catch you up in the morning,” Eliot said as he headed off into his room.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Margo called with a laugh as he clicked the door shut behind him.

Then, after composing himself for a few minutes and sitting down in the chair by his desk, Eliot pulled out his phone and took the opportunity to send Quentin a private message off of YouTube.

**HighFashionEliot:** Wishful thinking, but was that comment a request?

* * *

A few time zones ahead, Quentin’s phone vibrated on his chest, waking him up. The lamp by his bed was still on. He scrambled around for a second, trying to figure out what happened when he realized that he must have passed out while using his phone. He picked it up, still a bit disoriented, and blinked his eyes.

And there, on the lock screen, was a DM from Eliot. _That_ Eliot. _Comment? What comm... oh God._

Upon realizing and then verifying that he had sleepily commented the word ‘fuck’ on a stranger’s very nice-looking montage video, Quentin was mortified. He slid down further under the sheets as if that would help him escape from this, and then he realized two things - that Eliot could not actually see him, and that Eliot was DMing him _right now_. And probably waiting for a response.

Bracing himself on the last bit of drunken courage he had, Q began typing back.

**QuentinReads:** Shit, you saw that?

 **HighFashionEliot:** Uh huh.

Well, there went the possibility that Eliot received too many comments on his highly popular channel for him to notice a teeny one from a nerdy BookTuber.

**HighFashionEliot:** So is it safe to say that you enjoyed the new video?

 **QuentinReads:** ...

 **QuentinReads:** Uh huh.

 **HighFashionEliot:** Well, since we haven’t been officially acquainted, I’m Eliot.

 **QuentinReads:** Rupert.

 **HighFashionEliot:** ...?

 **QuentinReads:** Just kidding, I’m not - my name is actually Quentin.

 **HighFashionEliot:** I’d wondered, to be honest.

 **HighFashionEliot:** Do... you ever shorten it? 

**QuentinReads:** Oh, uh. My friend Julia calls me Q?

 **HighFashionEliot:** Hi Q.

 **QuentinReads:** Hi.

Heart absolutely pounding, Quentin leaned over and turned out his light, just in case he were to fall asleep during an absolutely critical moment for the second time tonight. Then, he looked back at his phone under the covers, letting the glow of the screen light up his face as he considered what to say next.

**QuentinReads:** So have you read any good books lately?

 **HighFashionEliot:** You’re just exactly the way you come off in your videos, aren’t you?

Quentin paused for a moment, taken aback.

**QuentinReads:** Why wouldn’t I be? Are you?

 **HighFashionEliot:** Hah. Well, you could say that becoming HighFashionEliot was the greatest creative project of my life. The way I see it, where else do you just get to decide exactly what people get to see from you, with no preconceived notions of you who are outside of it?

 **QuentinReads:** I guess that makes sense.

Something about this rubbed Q the wrong way. He’d never really considered that he should hide anything about who he is from his audience, at least not on purpose. Maybe it was that he thought he’d been getting to know Eliot through his videos these last few weeks, and learning that he was getting some purposely curated version of him was disappointing. Was Quentin steadily developing a crush on someone who didn’t even exist?

After he’d been thought-spiraling for a few minutes, Quentin realized that Eliot hadn’t written back. Should he tell him what he was thinking? It was still early enough to bail on this whole thing. They’d kind of just met each other. He switched back to the YouTube Studio app for a second and navigated over to the page with Eliot’s comments that Quentin had been rereading for days.

Then it occurred to him - these comments were public, and they were under Eliot’s username, but they didn’t seem to be written in the same guarded, sarcastic tone his videos were. They were just as elegant, sure, but they were also thoughtful and honest and even sweet. Maybe he’d been falling for the real Eliot all along, through his written words.

**QuentinReads:** But then how do people get to know you, if you don’t give them the chance to see the real you?

It took a minute as Quentin watched that little “...” sitting at the bottom of the chat window, but eventually, Eliot responded.

**HighFashionEliot:** Do you want to get to know me, Q?

As soon as the message came through, Quentin’s face heated up. Even though he was probably hundreds of miles away from Eliot, he felt vulnerable like this. And for whatever reason, he definitely liked it. So he worked up the courage and wrote back, gently biting his soft lower lip.

**QuentinReads:** Yeah, El. I like you. At least, I think I do?

 **QuentinReads:** You’re, um. I think you’re kind of beautiful.

Getting a rush of adrenaline, Quentin grinned and then leaned into what he’d just admitted to this near-stranger from across the country. Before Eliot could respond, he typed out a joke to lighten the mood.

**QuentinReads:** ...That is your real face, right?

And Quentin hoped that wherever he was, Eliot was reading that last message and laughing.


	2. The Video Collaboration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bumped up the rating for this chapter. As they get to know each other better, things get more intense. There are brief mentions of depression and cancer as well as some sexual content in Chapter 2. I’d also like to credit high-kings-of-fillory on Tumblr for the collab video concept.

Over the next few weeks, Quentin and Eliot got to know each other through private messages. It felt good to have someone to vent to when one of them had a thought they needed to share. They usually chatted in passing, sometimes just a message or two back and forth. Though, it steadily became more common for their conversations to last hours when they had the time.

Despite appearances, Eliot felt like he could be himself when it was just Quentin listening. Something about him made Eliot want to be honest. Quentin sensed whenever Eliot was hiding behind the walls he’d carefully built and gently called him on it, and Eliot slowly started to let him in. He wanted to let him in.

And Q felt like he could express himself better through text, because no matter how often Eliot made Quentin’s whole body react with his flirtatious lines and stunningly accurate observations, he could take a breath and a few minutes to compose a reply that accurately reflected his thoughts if he needed to. Eliot was always patient with him, unless El got the sense that Quentin was in the mood to be teased a bit. He never did it in a public comment, but now that he had a private way of contacting his YouTube crush, he planned to use it.    


  
**HighFashionEliot:** Excuse me, Mr. Coldwater. I need you to explain this sweater to me immediately.

A confused Quentin watched as the link to his own latest video popped into their private chat. At least now he knew which sweater Eliot meant, but that only answered one of his questions.

**QuentinReads:** How do I... explain a _sweater_? You’re the fashion guy?

**HighFashionEliot:** Quentin. You are KILLING me.

**QuentinReads:** I don’t... is it really that bad? Should I stop wearing it?

**HighFashionEliot:** Are you kidding me? Stop wearing ANYTHING ELSE.

Quentin froze. He seriously couldn’t move if he wanted to, except to type a quick reply on his phone.

**QuentinReads:** ...What?

**HighFashionEliot:** It actually FITS you. Holy fuck. Are you hiding actual pecs under those baggy t-shirts and flannels?

His face turned bright red. Eliot was complimenting Q, in his own way. And it still completely blindsided him every time. What else do you say when the gorgeous man you have a crush on is talking to you about how you might look good naked?

**QuentinReads:** I uh... oh.

**HighFashionEliot:** Just, you’re _smoking_ hot.

**QuentinReads:** I don’t think so... it just, I maybe left it in the dryer too long.

**HighFashionEliot:** You look incredible when your clothes fit, Q. Really.

**HighFashionEliot:** And that’s saying a lot because I really do like the t-shirts and flannels.

**HighFashionEliot:** On you, by the way. No one else. Don’t repeat that.

Quentin was speechless at this point. He didn’t know what to say. His body felt warm all over. It felt good. He could see that Eliot was typing for a little while, so he just waited to see what he’d say next.

**HighFashionEliot:** Is this okay, Q? Does it bother you when I talk like this?

Swallowing the huge lump in his throat, Quentin moved to say something, anything. His heart was pounding. His response wasn’t eloquent or clever in any way, but it got the point across.

**QuentinReads:** I like it.

* * *

Having someone around who uniquely understood the challenges of running an online content creation business was helpful for both of them. They could talk through any tech issues the other was experiencing or, in some cases, ease the other through anything especially difficult that came up.

**HighFashionEliot:** Emergency. Highest priority.

**QuentinReads:** Shit, what’s wrong?

**HighFashionEliot:** Which of these should I wear in my video today?

Then, Eliot sent over two nearly identical photos of himself. It took Quentin a minute of squinting at his phone screen to realize that he was referring to the ties. This was like a really confusing game of “Spot the Difference” from a much more attractive version of the Highlights magazines he subscribed to as a kid.

**QuentinReads:** They both look good?

**HighFashionEliot:** Quentin.

**QuentinReads:** Ahh sorry, I don’t know, the purple one? You look great in purple.

**HighFashionEliot:** It’s clearly amethyst, but that works. Thanks. Gotta run.

Once Eliot had gone back to video making, a thought occurred to Quentin and he smiled. El hadn’t ever sent a selfie to Quentin before now, something he’d taken just for him. He took a second to sit comfortably in the feeling, then saved both of the pictures to his phone.

* * *

**QuentinReads:** Comment trolls are out in full force today.

**HighFashionEliot:** Sorry, Q. What’s their problem this time?

**QuentinReads:** It’s not important.

**HighFashionEliot:** Aw, buddy. Are you embarrassed?

**QuentinReads:** ...I’m not.

Maybe Eliot shouldn’t have, but comments were publicly available. Nothing was stopping him from pulling up Quentin’s latest video and scrolling down to where the offending username was making fun of -

**HighFashionEliot:** Quentin, don’t listen to them; you have incredible eyebrows!

**QuentinReads:** Eliot!

**HighFashionEliot:** I know, I couldn’t help myself. But they’re just fundamentally incorrect. I am borderline obsessed with your eyebrows. You’re furrowing those cuties right now, aren’t you?

**QuentinReads:** It’s not... it’s not about my eyebrows. I’m just tired of being picked apart. Were they even listening to what I was saying in the video?

**HighFashionEliot:** If they weren’t listening, they probably weren’t your target audience anyway. Yeah, it can hurt, but they’re not the people you’re making videos for. Just an unfortunate side effect of popularity, Q.

**QuentinReads:** I... I guess that makes sense?

**HighFashionEliot:** Plus, have I told you how great your eyebrows are?

**QuentinReads:** Can we... maybe stop talking about my eyebrows?

**HighFashionEliot:** Okay.

**HighFashionEliot:** ...

**HighFashionEliot:** Can we talk about your mouth instead?

**QuentinReads:** ELIOT!

* * *

Gradually, Quentin and Eliot started talking more about their daily lives outside of YouTube. Even though they had never met in person, there was a point where they both decided to trust the other with things they typically kept to themselves.

**QuentinReads:** Hey El, you there?

**HighFashionEliot:** Yeah I’m here, what’s on your mind?

**QuentinReads:** I was thinking about something you said a few weeks ago. About your online persona? I think I’ve unintentionally been doing the same thing. And I’m, uh. I’m not sure how to feel about it.

**HighFashionEliot:** What do you mean?

**QuentinReads:** I, um. I’m a lot... happier on my channel.

**HighFashionEliot:** You do talk about pretty positive things. Stuff you’re excited about. It doesn’t seem forced or anything. 

**QuentinReads:** That’s uh, that’s not really...

**QuentinReads:** I have depression.

Eliot had been out running errands when he got Q’s message. When it became apparent that Quentin wanted to talk about something big and needed some support, Eliot paused his walk home and sat on a nearby bench where he could put down his bags and give this his full attention.

**QuentinReads:** I’ve been hospitalized before. 

**QuentinReads:** And sometimes, I don’t know. It just feels like I’m lying when I turn on a camera and talk about my favorite book characters or some weird theory with this stupid smile on my face.

**HighFashionEliot:** When you talk about those things, does it make you feel better? Take your mind off everything else?

**QuentinReads:** Sometimes? Usually? Not always for long. But it helps.

**HighFashionEliot:** And your fans. Do they get happiness from watching you?

**QuentinReads:** ...Yeah.

Taking a deep breath, Eliot settled back into the bench and focused on typing his next few lines. It was like the world around him, the busy streets and cars and pedestrians, had completely vanished.

**HighFashionEliot:** You’re allowed to have a creative outlet that helps you forget about your depression for a little while and you don’t owe every detail of your life to the people who watch your channel, Q. If you ever want to share that piece of you with them, to help them feel like they’re not alone, that’s your decision.

**HighFashionEliot:** And hey, if you ever start filming and channeling that happy version of Q just isn’t working, you could always try... not making a video.

**QuentinReads:** Gasp!

**HighFashionEliot:** I know! Blasphemy!

**QuentinReads:** That helps a little. Thanks, El. I didn’t mean to take the mood down, I just. Wanted you to know. Is that okay?

Eliot’s whole face shifted, wanting nothing more than to hop on a plane and scoop this entire guy into his arms. Quentin was confiding in him and all he could do to help was text back. It broke his heart.

**HighFashionEliot:** God, of course it’s okay. You know I care about you, right?

**QuentinReads:** Mmhmm.

**HighFashionEliot:** You can always talk to me about this stuff. If you want to.

**QuentinReads:** ...Thanks, Eliot.

* * *

For a while, Quentin and Eliot kept their friendship to themselves. They shared some things with Margo and Julia, but aside from Eliot’s flirty comments, there wasn’t a whole lot of online evidence that they’d been talking day and night for months now. Even though they were getting closer by the day, they hadn’t really given a name to what they had together and that made it a little tricky to explain to anyone else.

One afternoon, Q was working on some new end screens for his channel when a notification popped up that Eliot had posted something new. He clicked without even reading it, eager for a break from adjusting fonts and image placement, and smiled when he heard Eliot’s voice coming through his laptop speakers.

“Today, I’m answering some questions from you folks. That’s right, it’s another Q&A. I really did try to ask for fashion-related questions but it seems like you mostly wanted to know about me so this will be _interesting_. Here goes,” video Eliot said.

Quentin had noticed that Eliot didn’t speak very often in his videos. His new friend preferred to tell stories with clothing and fabrics and movement with music in the background, but he quickly found that being flexible enough to make a simple topic vlog every once in a while helped him to avoid burnout and keep up with his production schedule. The easy ones somehow performed better than the more cinematic videos that took weeks to produce. Even though they seemed like a cop out to Eliot, people liked them.

The main reason why Eliot kept making video blogs, however, was that Q liked them. He told Eliot as much. He liked hearing his voice and they hadn’t taken the step beyond texting to phone or video calls, so this was kind of his only chance. Quentin had left out that last part.

Quentin continued making his final touches to the channel graphics as he listened, but a few answers in, his ears perked up.

“Sassafras79 asked, ‘If you could collaborate with any YouTuber, who would it be?’” Eliot read off of his phone. “Definitely QuentinReads. If you haven’t heard of him, definitely look him up, especially if you like the Fillory and Further series. I’ve kind of been dying to collab with him for a while now, to be honest.”

Quentin nearly fell out of his chair. And like clockwork, his phone started going off. He leaned over his desk to check the lock screen. A wave of new subscribers was coming through already. Before he had a chance to get anxious about whether they would like him, he grabbed his phone and disabled the YouTube notifications. He usually liked to keep them on so he could stay involved with his audience, but whenever something did especially well, he needed to put a pause on them for his own mental health.

As soon as that was settled, the notifications stopped and Q popped over to his chat with Eliot.

**QuentinReads:** You’ve been wanting to collaborate with me?

**HighFashionEliot:** You saw that, huh? I had an idea, actually.

**QuentinReads:** Yeah?

**HighFashionEliot:** What do the Fillory books say about fashion? The Chatwins are royals, right?

Quentin could’ve cried, he was so excited. And so they spent the rest of the day planning out a frankly extravagant collab video that would definitely need to be scaled back at least once because they didn’t have unlimited resources to make these things happen. But by dinner time in Eliot’s time zone, they had a pretty good outline ready to go and some basic sketches for some outfits Eliot was going to attempt to thrift and DIY.

**HighFashionEliot:** I’ve got to go eat something; Bambi’s calling me for lunch. Oh wait, I should see if she’d be up for modeling Jane’s clothes in the video! She’s a huge Fillory fan.

**QuentinReads:** Your roommate likes the books and you’ve never told me?!

Well, this was awkward.

**HighFashionEliot:** Actually, you might kind of already know her. She had the ovaries to DM you before I did, but she said you two only talked about nerd shit.

**QuentinReads:** I talk to a lot of Fillory fans but I feel like I’d remember someone named Bambi?

**HighFashionEliot:** I call her that. Her name is Margo.

**QuentinReads:** Margo is your roommate?!

**HighFashionEliot:** I would’ve told you sooner, I promise. She doesn’t want to be known in relation to me; she’s very particular about it.

**QuentinReads:** Well, she did talk to me first. Should I start referring to you as Margo’s roommate, or...

**HighFashionEliot:** You are a _brat_ , aren’t you?

**HighFashionEliot:** Not gonna lie; I’m into it.

And with that, Eliot headed off to pitch the idea to Margo.

The collaboration ended up being a huge success. Who knew that a video bridging the fashion and BookTube communities on YouTube would make so much sense? Eliot, with Margo and Quentin’s assistance, tracked down and altered a whole collection of really unique ensembles inspired by Fillorian fashion, at least the way Quentin and Margo imagined it to be. There weren’t very many passages or illustrations to go on, but luckily they had Eliot’s keen eye for pairing pieces together in incredibly interesting ways.

Eliot scouted a forest location that looked downright magical and Margo joined him in modeling the costumes. And across the country, Quentin recorded a voiceover narrating the idea behind each of the looks. What he lacked in fashion knowledge, he made up for in enthusiasm for the book series and Eliot had added some of his more fashion-oriented thoughts to fill in the gaps. They’d found the perfect overlap of their skill sets and they had a hell of a lot of fun working on a project together.

It also didn’t hurt that the fans started asking questions about Quentin and Eliot’s obvious chemistry. Quentin’s heart leapt whenever a new one was posted.

* * *

For a long while, their relationship remained stuck in the realm of text chats with an occasional photo sent back and forth. Neither of them seemed to have the guts to ask for the other’s phone number or to be the first to initiate a video call.

That changed the day Quentin received the worst news of his life.

**QuentinReads:** elot

**HighFashionEliot:** Is that my name now, or...

**QuentinReads:** cn you facetme

**HighFashionEliot:** Quentin, are you okay?

**QuentinReads:** no?

**HighFashionEliot:** Absolutely, Q. What’s your number?

After they worked out the details, they eventually got the video call started. And what Eliot saw very nearly shattered his heart.

Quentin had been crying. His whole face was red and swollen, strands of hair were stuck to his face where tears had wet his cheeks and then dried there. This was not what Eliot had pictured their first ever video call would be like. 

“Q, what happened?” Eliot asked in the kindest, gentlest way he could.

“I uh, I just found out my dad has cancer,” Q said very carefully. It may have been the first time he’d said those words out loud.

Eliot resisted the urge to hide his face, to hold his forehead in his hand or turn away. He knew that Q needed to see him, to talk to him for real this time, but this was so much more than he thought he could handle. El could be the suave and sarcastic HighFashionEliot with distance and practice, but in moments like this, his face would totally give him away.

But HighFashionEliot isn’t who Quentin needed right now. And he knew that. So he allowed himself to be vulnerable, for Q.

“God, Q. I’m so sorry.”

They talked for a good long while. About Quentin’s dad, about the day he’d just spent at the hospital, about his childhood, about how he felt hearing the news. This wasn’t something that Eliot could fix, but he sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere until he felt okay letting Quentin leave the call.

Eventually, Quentin had stopped crying. They had moved on to talking about other things and for at least a few moments, things felt alright.

Q paused for a second and they sat in silence. Then, he spoke up. His voice was worn and groggy. “I should, um, I should go wash my face. Would you, uh, would you wait for me? I can call you back -”

“I’ll wait. You don’t have to call back, just put the phone down,” Eliot said.

“Okay. Just, thank you, Eliot.”

And then he waited.

It didn’t take very long; Quentin’s skincare regimen was definitely not as detailed as Eliot’s. But after a few minutes, a cleaner, pajama-clad Q padded back into his bedroom and picked up the phone.

Eliot smiled when he saw him. “Much better. You feeling okay now?”

Quentin nodded, rubbing his face with his sleeve and walking the phone over to his bed.

“What time is it over there?” Eliot wondered out loud as he saw Quentin hold the phone to his chest for a second before reappearing in a horizontal position and pulling up the covers.

“It’s um, 1:47am,” Q said once he was comfortable and tucked in. He was definitely exhausted, physically and emotionally, but he didn’t want Eliot to go.

Eliot was in a similar boat, just a west coast one, which bought him a few extra hours. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

After considering it for a second, Quentin shook his head. A long strand of hair slipped down onto his forehead. “Not yet. I like this. Talking to you like this,” he said.

“Me too, Q. It’s good to finally see your face,” Eliot said quietly.

Quentin smiled for maybe the first time all night and a rosy blush appeared on his cheeks.

Eliot grinned. “Do you blush like that every time I say something nice to you?”

“Um, yeah pretty much,” Q said, blushing harder.

“Do you even know how gorgeous you are? Do you know how badly I wish that I could be in that bed beside you, so I wouldn’t have to go? God, I wish I could hold you in my arms and make sure that you’re okay tonight.” Eliot couldn’t have scripted this. The honest truth just poured out of him and it was wonderful and terrifying.

Meanwhile, Quentin could barely breathe. This was so much. It was everything. Why did they have to live so far away from each other?

“Eliot,” was all that Quentin could bring himself to say. His eyes said everything else, really.

* * *

Now that they had crossed the boundary of video calling, they did it all the time. At first, they scheduled the calls. It was the polite thing to do, especially since they lived on opposite coasts. Quentin finally got to say hello to Margo, who was frequently in the background. And with everything that was going on with Q’s dad, Eliot liked being able to physically see that Quentin was doing okay. They could hide behind the text chats, but seeing and hearing each other forced them to be a bit more honest about how they were feeling.

Eventually, they started just calling out of the blue whenever one felt like seeing the other. And usually they would pick up, or at least text that they’d call back later. For once, they had fully communicated to each other that it was okay to interrupt the other without asking first. That the surprise calls weren’t a burden. That seeing each other brightened their days, even if they only said hi for a minute and then went back to whatever they were doing.

And that is how they ended up in their current situation.

It all started when Eliot posted a new video on his channel. Lately, his audience had been requesting a bit of a DIY tutorial where he could demonstrate how he had altered the thrifted Fillory-inspired fashions for the collaboration with Quentin.

El had given him a heads up, so Q was prepared to watch the video as soon as it went live. At least, he thought he would be prepared.

The reality was that he soon found himself watching a full four minutes of closeups on Eliot’s hands. Perfect, elegant hands gripped onto a well-loved pair of shears. Long, skilled fingers made quick work of several lines of stitching. And before he had even reached the halfway mark of the entirely informative and ad-friendly sewing video, Quentin was absolutely lost in a very vivid fantasy of what those hands would feel like all over his body.

He was part way through his third viewing of the video when out of nowhere, playback halted. It took Q a second to realize why because frankly, it was disorienting.

Eliot was _calling_ him.

He shouldn’t pick up, right? Eliot probably just wanted to know what he thought of the video. That conversation could wait until Quentin wasn’t literally grinding the front of his jeans into the comforter of his bed, right?

“Oh uh, hey El,” Quentin whispered to the sudden appearance of Eliot’s face as he realized that he had accidentally accepted the call instead of refusing it. Guess they’d be having this conversation now after all.

Eliot seemed to take one look at Q’s face and instantly figure out exactly what was going on. “ _Hey_. What did I interrupt?” he asked as a smug grin found its way across his face.

Q looked briefly up at his own reflection in the top corner of the screen. His face was flushed, eyes blown black, mouth _hanging open_ \- God, okay, now that was shut. “Fuck, um, nothing?” he said, flustered as ever.

“Q, baby, you look _really_ turned on,” Eliot practically purred.

Everything that was happening right here should absolutely one hundred percent result in the equivalent of a cold shower for Quentin, right? All of the other times he’d been caught doing something super embarrassing instantly killed any kind of buzz he’d worked up, so why did this only feel more incredible?

Quentin’s eyes darted around the room, trying to make sense of this. He and Eliot had flirted, sure, they were super close, but they’d never even talked about anything like this before. This wasn’t something they _did_ yet. So why did his intensely nervous, panicked energy only _contribute_ to the raging hard-on he was hiding?

“If I’m interrupting, feel free to hang up, bud,” Eliot said, still unable to wipe that smile away. He was _living_ for this. “Or you could let me help.”

God, Q wanted this. But the closer he got to being able to say yes, the more his body clenched up. If Eliot were here, maybe he could help him physically relax. But this, being alone while Eliot was all the way across the country, being _seen_ like this; he couldn’t bring himself to let his guard down yet. Not while Eliot was _looking_ at him like that. Like he wanted Quentin too.

“Okay,” Quentin said, quiet as a mouse. So quiet that Eliot almost missed it.

“Okay?” El verified, definitely unable to mask the excitement in his voice.

“But not here. I’m embarrassed,” Q could barely coax the words out.

“Alright, okay. Of course. Is text better?” Eliot asked, wrapping his head around what was about to go down.

Quentin nodded, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Okay. I’ve got you. See you over there,” Eliot said, then he ended the call.

After some shifting, Quentin found a comfortable spot propped up on a pillow against his headboard. His heart was racing and he was so nervous, but then the first message from Eliot came through.

**HighFashionEliot:** Are you comfortable?

**QuentinReads:** Depends on your definition. But um, yeah, I’m sitting up in bed.

**HighFashionEliot:** Do you want to tell me what started this?

**QuentinReads:** I don’t know if I can...

**HighFashionEliot:** You don’t have to. I just want to make you feel good. It could be a place to start.

Quentin was reeling, hearing this from Eliot. He felt like he was on fire in the best way. He tried to remind himself that this was normal. They were two twenty-somethings that found each other attractive and had gotten really close lately - it was natural to want to make each other feel good. It helped a little knowing that Eliot couldn’t see him like this anymore, so Q took a deep breath and started typing.

**QuentinReads:** Jesus, I. I was watching your new video. Eliot, your hands.

**HighFashionEliot:** Ahh.

**QuentinReads:** I’m so sorry if this is weird.

**HighFashionEliot:** What if I told you that all I want right now is to put my hands on you?

**QuentinReads:** !

**HighFashionEliot:** Q, I want to show you what I would do if I were there. Can I tell you what to do?

**QuentinReads:** Please.

Q scooted down onto the bed, resting his head against his pillow and waiting as patiently as he could for Eliot’s next message. His chest was rising and falling, his breath heavy.

**HighFashionEliot:** Put your hands on your chest and start moving them around, so slowly.

**HighFashionEliot:** Down your arms. Behind your neck. Along the shell of your ear, really gentle, then back down to your stomach. Got it?

**QuentinReads:** Yeah.

**HighFashionEliot:** You’re secretly really fit under all these clothes, aren’t you? I can almost feel the muscles through your shirt.

**HighFashionEliot:** Will you let me under there?

**QuentinReads:** Mmhmm.

**HighFashionEliot:** Just slide one hand up under your shirt for me? Let me touch your belly.

**QuentinReads:** Okay.

**HighFashionEliot:** You’re being so good for me. How does this feel?

**QuentinReads:** It feels amazing.

For a while, Quentin tried really hard to follow Eliot’s instructions exactly. But it just felt so good, even if it wasn’t actually Eliot’s hands all over him. The second his hands reached up his shirt and over the warm, soft skin of his stomach, he couldn’t help himself and wriggled right out of the long sleeve crew neck tee he was wearing.

**QuentinReads:** I er, I just took my shirt off.

**HighFashionEliot:** Haha. Easy there, tiger! I’m just trying to romance you a little. But that’s okay.

**HighFashionEliot:** Was I right? About your body?

Getting progressively braver, Quentin switched over to the camera app and snapped a quick stomach-up photo of his shirtless self, heart beating so fast. Before he could chicken out, he went back to the chat window. 

**QuentinReads:** Is, um. I took a photo for you. Is that okay?

**HighFashionEliot:** More than okay. I’d love to see it!

Quentin held his breath and sent the photo. He could’ve sworn the temperature in the room had just gone up ten degrees.

**HighFashionEliot:** Q, you look amazing. Are those bedroom eyes all for me?

**QuentinReads:** Yeah, El.

**QuentinReads:** Am I... I don’t usually do this?

**HighFashionEliot:** You’re better at this than you think, baby. You told me what you needed to make this more comfortable for you. And you sent me a sexy picture!

**QuentinReads:** I did, didn’t I?

**HighFashionEliot:** Can I take one for you?

**QuentinReads:** God, could you?

The next few minutes were the slowest yet. But luckily for Quentin, Eliot did not do things halfway and the photo that appeared in the text chat was well-composed, filthy, and absolutely worth waiting for.

**QuentinReads:** Holy fuck, Eliot. Are you -?

**HighFashionEliot:** Touching myself, yeah. You’re driving me up the wall right now, Quentin. Can I keep doing it?

**QuentinReads:** Yes. I’m gonna join you.

**HighFashionEliot:** Good. Can you type with one hand?

**QuentinReads:** Slower, but yeah.

**HighFashionEliot:** Tell me how you were imagining my hands earlier. I want to know what you like.

* * *

By the end, they were both too tired to type, so Quentin called Eliot’s number and pressed the phone up to his ear.

“Hello,” a very relaxed Eliot answered.

“Hi,” Q said back. For a bit, they sat in the quiet and listened to each other breathing.

“That was really nice, El,” Quentin said after a bit. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but he also wasn’t terribly confident in his sexting abilities and he always got nervous being vulnerable around people he liked this much.

“Is that... the sort of thing you’d want to do more often?” Eliot asked gently.

Q rolled over onto his side and pulled his sheets up as his body started to cool down. “Yeah. I mean, um, I think I’d prefer it in person, but... in the meantime, yeah,” he said hesitantly.

Eliot was immediately grinning. Quentin could hear it in his voice when he said, “You’d want to take this thing offline, Coldwater?”

“Only if- if you want to. But yeah,” Q laughed a little.

“On that note, I wanted to run something by you,” Eliot said.

“Okay. What is it?”

Eliot bit his bottom lip, weighing his thoughts for a second. “I got an invitation to YouTubeCon in June. It’s not far from here, but a lot of people travel for it and I thought maybe -” he started.

“Oh!” Quentin sat up excitedly, waving one of his hands. “They - uh - they do a BookTube panel there every year. I got an invite too, but I only know Julia and she knows all these people and I feel like it would be kind of uh, weird tagging along with her so I usually turn it down.” It was as if Quentin had totally forgotten about how intense the vibe had been just now as he headed off onto his tangent.

Waiting a minute to make sure Q was done with his ramble, Eliot continued. “Would you want to maybe,” El started with certain intentions, then he backpedaled a little. “Meet up there?”

Okay, so what if Eliot panicked and didn’t fully express that he wanted to attend the whole event with Q? He actually had hoped to spend the whole convention tugging him along on his arm and dancing with him at VIP parties and snuggling up to him in the hotel at night after finding random nooks so he could kiss him where the mobs of fans couldn’t see. It was just easier to ask for, what, a coffee date between panels? A quick hello in the hallway before heading over to his meet and greet? Pull yourself together, Waugh.

When Quentin realized that Eliot was asking for actual face-to-face time with him, he smiled. “Oh! Well, if you were gonna be there I guess I could tell them yes this time!” Q said.

El’s face brightened up. “Really? You’d fly all the way out here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I... yeah. Why not!” Quentin was still on a bit of a high from earlier, but for whatever reason, the idea of attending a huge event that gave him anxiety a year ago seemed not so badright now. And he’d have a few months to work himself up to it.

“Okay. So I’ll get to see you, for real, in June?” Eliot asked, just to make sure.

“See you there. For real.”


	3. YouTubeCon Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m adding more chapters! This thing has a mind of its own now, and your comments have been so wonderful that I decided to just run with it. Thanks so much for your support!

Quentin Coldwater hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and a cardigan. He had been waiting probably eight hours of total travel time to make that joke, which involved pulling said cardigan out of his suitcase as soon as he had gone through the TSA checkpoint in New York and hiding a giggle as he struggled to shove his arms into the stretchy, fuzzy sleeves. Julia responded to his sense of humor by holding her head in her hands while they waited for her suitcase.

As the pair of them stepped out into the California sunshine, Julia double-checked her phone to find where their shuttle would be picking them up. They weren’t in any rush; she let Quentin know that day one of YouTubeCon was always pretty chill in case of any travel delays. But knowing that Eliot could possibly be on the other side of the cramped van ride with strangers definitely put a jittery spring in Quentin’s step.

It didn’t last long. By the time they made it to their hotel, which sat right on property alongside the Anaheim Convention Center, Q was exhausted. He had basically morphed into the human equivalent of a puppy who was falling asleep in the middle of running in circles; eyelids drooping, shoulders slouching.

“So once we pick up our room keys, we can drop off our luggage and head over to the convention center. Guest relations staff will have our badges and there’s usually some kind of a mixer for featured creators near the VIP check-in desk that we could scope out,” Julia said while the airport shuttle was dropping them off.

Quentin leaned down to pull up on the handle of his rolling suitcase. “I’m not sure if I have the energy for a party right now, Jules,” he said as he tried to keep up with her through the lobby. It wasn’t just that he had been up since 4am eastern time (and awake pretty late talking to Eliot the night before); the idea of networking with a bunch of people who assumed he’d already heard of them seemed like an activity that required feeling awake.

“It’ll be relatively quiet, but if you’d rather nap, fine by me. Just, maybe try to get out a bit this weekend when you’ve had a chance to wake up? Introduce yourself to some people?” Julia encouraged him as she stepped into the line at the hotel front desk. “We did come all this way,” she added.

He watched her step up to the next available hotel employee as he mumbled, “I’ll just close my eyes for a minute, I promise.”

* * *

Eliot was sipping a martini in the VIP lounge, already feeling bored out of his mind, when he recognized a tiny brunette with long, curly hair heading straight for the YouTubeCon featured guest check-in counter. Was that...?

“Julia?” he called, lifting a finger or two off of the side of his glass in greeting to Quentin’s best friend. He’d seen her in a few of his videos and since barely anyone of interest had arrived yet, he figured there was no real reason to put off making her acquaintance. She turned her head, glancing around for the source of the unfamiliar voice, then waved when she realized where it had originated from.

It took a minute for her to join him. She picked up informational packets along with two tote bags full of sponsor-provided goodies. Then, a YouTubeCon staff member placed two bright yellow VIP badges on lanyards around her neck like a medal at the end of a marathon. Once Julia was all checked in, she turned and headed over to the towering giraffe of a man she’d been pretty curious to meet.

“So you’re Eliot, then.” she said, dropping the bags onto the floor near where he sat and pulling up a chair to join him. “Q said you were local?”

Eliot put his drink down on the table next to him. “Close enough. I moved out to LA for college and never really left,” he said. “Figured I’d head over here early and check out the free stuff.”

“Oh right, is there anything good in here?” she looked down at the swag bags at her feet which she hadn’t given more than a passing glance to.

“Meh,” he shrugged, taking another sip. It was then that he connected the dots and realized why the guest team had loaded Julia up with double the check-in items. “So are you actually two people or is that for - ?”

“Quentin’s asleep in the hotel room so I picked his up for him. At first, I thought he was just making excuses to get out of socializing, but then he passed out face down before he could even take his shoes off, so."

Eliot smiled. That seemed like Q. "...I may have kept him up late last night," he admitted.

The side of Julia's mouth curled up in a mischievous grin. "Please encourage him to come out of the room once in a while. Maybe he'll listen to you," she said, turning to graciously accept a drink that the waiter had brought over to her.

"How many books did he pack in his suitcase?" Eliot asked, guilty grin still on his face.

Julia laughed. "Oh, at least four. He finished one on the plane but he left space in his luggage in case he ended up acquiring more on the trip."

It didn't take long for the two of them to hit it off and by the time the room had started to fill up with video content creators of all genres, any potential awkwardness had totally dissipated.

"I should probably bring these upstairs and see if I can get Q to come out with me. He's never going to survive the time difference if he sleeps all day," Julia said, checking her watch and standing up.

"Wishing you the best of luck," Eliot said, raising his glass.

After she had gathered her things and pushed in her chair, Julia hesitated for a moment. "Hey, do you want to - if it's not weird, you could come up with me. I think he’d really love to see you,” she said, gently. Julia didn’t want to overstep boundaries, but Quentin had been looking forward to meeting Eliot for months and she really wanted her best friend to find someone. He deserved someone good.

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude - especially if he’s not expecting to wake up to my face,” Eliot froze up, taken aback by the suggestion. The idea of showing up when Quentin wasn’t prepared to see him yet... he couldn’t stand the possibility that Q would reject him this soon into the trip. Eliot had been thinking up scenarios of how this would go for months and he was starting to realize that he might not have been totally ready to let things out of his control. “He could text me? When he wakes up? If he wants to,” he added, still hopeful that the meeting would be everything he’d dreamed.

Julia scrunched up her face a little. “You’re probably right. See you around?” she said, then she held out her hand for him.

“Definitely,” Eliot said as he reached out and shook her hand, then watched as she turned and walked off toward the elevators.

* * *

Quentin was just stepping out of the hotel room shower when he heard Julia coming back in. He wrapped a towel around his waist and combed his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it back out of his face.

“It’s just me, Q. Glad you’re up!” Julia called through the closed bathroom door as she walked past it.

“Okay! Give me a few minutes,” he said as he dried off and got dressed. When he was done, he opened the bathroom door and found her rummaging through a tote bag full of various gifts from the convention sponsors.“How was check-in?” Quentin asked.

Julia tried to play it cool. “Oh, fine. I picked up your badge,” she indicated to the lanyard she’d left on his pillow. “And I met Eliot.”

Q’s face lit up as he sat down on his bed, desperate for details. “He’s _here_?! Jules, what is he like?”

“When I got there, he was sitting by himself, having a drink. I think he recognized me from your videos so he called me over and we talked for a while. He’s really smart, funny, easy to talk to. Also I couldn’t really tell because he was sitting down but I’m _pretty_ sure he’s twice my size and his hands are _massive_ ,” Julia explained with a smile.

Realistically, that last bit was information Quentin probably didn’t need to know unless he wanted his head to be stuck in the gutter for the next few hours. Q clung to every word, excitement just bursting out of his face.

“I like him, Q. Oh! And he said you should text him if you want to see him. He’s mostly hanging around here for the rest of the day until programming starts in the morning,” Julia added.

“Wait, I could go see him right now?!” Quentin stood up, suddenly unable to figure out what to do with his limbs. He ran over to his messenger bag propped up on the desk and combed through it to find his cell phone.

Once he’d found it, he picked it up and - “Goddamnit, I should’ve charged it when we got in,” he groaned, pushing the power button a few extra times for good measure, to no avail. It made sense that the battery was empty; they’d been traveling since 4am eastern time.

“In the meantime, some of my friends are having a party in their room upstairs - why don’t you plug that in and come up with me while you wait?” Julia asked as she got up and joined him across the room. “Please?”

Q plugged his phone in, thinking that maybe if he gave it a minute, he could get a message out to Eliot. One sad blinking red battery icon later, and he put the phone back down on the desk by the outlet. “Okay. We can go,” he replied, feeling a bit dejected.

“Yes! They’re nerds, you’ll like them, I promise,” Julia assured him as they grabbed their room keys and headed out the door.

* * *

A few hours later, Quentin walked back to the room on his own. Julia’s friends were actually really cool; her channel was education-based, so most of the folks she knew on YouTube had interesting niche channels on various topics. Eventually, though, he decided he was done for the night and headed back without her. He figured she wouldn’t mind; this way, she wouldn’t have to worry about whether he was enjoying himself any longer.

He dipped the key card into its slot on their hotel room door and stepped inside, feeling for the light switch along the wall. And before he did anything else, Quentin rushed over to his phone which, thank God, had turned on and fully charged.

Right at the top of his lock screen sat a text message from Eliot’s number. It had been sent _hours_ ago.

**El:** How was your nap, sleeping beauty?

Quentin unplugged the phone and rushed over to the bed, where he sat down and hurriedly typed a response. He hoped Eliot was still awake.

**Q:** Agh sorry, my phone was dead when I woke up and Julia took me out to meet her friends while it charged. Are you still up?

 **El:** Remind me to send you a portable battery next time you travel. Yeah, I’m awake. Did you have a good day?

 **Q:** Not bad! I actually really like flying? I got a lot of reading done.

 **Q:** Her friends were nice, she’s still out with them. She said you guys met?

 **El:** Yeah! We had a couple drinks. She’s great, Q. Was kind of hoping you would’ve been there with her.

Quentin took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

**Q:** Well, I’m here now. Would you... where are you? Can I meet you somewhere?

He waited for a few seconds, but Quentin was not what anyone would call patient. So he added another.

**Q:** It’s um, I know it’s late, but I did get that nap earlier, heh.

 **Q:** I’d really like to see you.

For a moment, Quentin’s worries started to stack up. What if things with Eliot felt different in person? Did Eliot even want to see him? Was it actually safe to meet up with him alone in the middle of the night? Sure, Julia had met him first, and she seemed to think he was okay. He probably could’ve kept going, but then Eliot finally wrote back.

**El:** I... can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have a really early start tomorrow. Do you think we could take a rain check?

Oh. That’s... maybe what Quentin should have expected. They were both hired to be here, to do a job, technically. It’s not like all of YouTubeCon was some kind of date for them. They hadn’t even... God, should they have scheduled this out ahead of time?

**Q:** Oh. Yeah yeah, of course. Me too, actually - I have a panel first thing. I’m sure I’ll see you around though?

 **El:** Definitely. Let me know if you end up with any free time. 

**Q:** Will do. Goodnight, El.

 **El:** Night, Q.

Okay, so maybe Quentin had gotten his hopes up. It was his mistake. But as he reached over and turned off the lamp, filling his quiet hotel room with darkness, he had never felt more alone. 

So much for getting a good night’s rest.

* * *

The next morning was chaotic the moment Quentin and Julia stepped into the elevator bay. Apparently, the floor they had been placed on was specifically set aside for well-known YouTube creators and the event had stationed security by the elevators to keep random people from following their faves to their private rooms. Q didn’t realize that something like this would be an issue, and maybe it wouldn’t be for him, but he suddenly started to worry about Eliot’s safety. HighFashionEliot had a much larger and much _louder_ audience.

They showed the security staff their VIP badges (good thing Q hadn’t forgotten his in the room) and headed down to the lobby.

People were everywhere. _Cameras_ were everywhere. Smartphones, GoPros, DSLRs, even whole teams of people operating legit news cameras. At least every third person was documenting literally everything around them.

“Jules, should I have brought my camera with me?” Quentin asked as Julia grabbed onto his arm and pulled him along to keep them from getting separated in the crowd.

“Some folks do, others just like to take the opportunity to live in the moment for once and be with their friends. But sometimes it’s nice to have some footage to look back at when you’re home and missing everyone,” Julia said as she steered him around a mob that was slowly forming around someone with bright blue hair holding a mirrorless camera. “Your phone’s charged now, right? Just use that.”

Quentin double-checked that his phone was in his pocket, but something about filming a bunch of people filming each other seemed off-brand for him, so he kept it there for now.

As they worked their way over to the convention center where Quentin was due to speak on a panel soon, several things happened.

First, Q had been operating under the assumption that he could very likely run into Eliot somewhere. Ever since they had failed to get together the night before, he’d been picturing something especially romantic. Maybe Eliot would be waiting in the lobby with coffee, just the way Quentin liked it. Or sitting in the front row of his panel, ready to ask sweet questions and make his favorite guy feel wanted in front of everyone.

Various possibilities ran through his head until Quentin got downstairs and realized that there were over twenty thousand folks here who had the same idea. Even the barricades along the edges of the property were packed with fans who didn’t get tickets but were hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite creators passing by.

Second, it seemed as if absolutely none of them had any idea who Quentin was. For a moment, he thought he caught a few people looking at him. But when he returned the awkward glances with a smile, those folks seemed especially confused. It took a little while for him to figure out what was happening, but as these onlookers became more daring, the situation made itself apparent.

“Who’re you?” a small teenage boy asked as he stepped directly in Quentin’s path.

Q looked aside at Julia. “I’m, um, Quentin? Who... are you?” he said, not entirely sure if that was what the kid was asking.

“No. Why do you have that badge?” the kid pointed at Q’s yellow VIP badge. “How many subscribers do you have?”

“I’m, um, speaking on a panel. In fact, I should probably go - they’re waiting for me...”

Still, Sir Questions did not let up. “Can I buy it off you?” he asked, taking his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your Venmo?”

Finally, Julia stepped in. “No, you can’t. Q, we’re going now,” she asserted before yanking Quentin by the arm right out of there.

“What the fuck was -” Q started once they were moving again.

“It wasn’t this bad last year. Maybe next time, we should take the shuttle around the back,” Julia muttered under her breath so only Quentin could hear. “Hold onto your badge; we’re almost there.”

Thankfully, they reached the secure VIP area in one piece.

Q and Julia went their separate ways from there, following their information packets to the back entrances of various rooms in the convention center where they were set to appear. Folks back here were actually quite nice; waving hello as they passed even if they didn’t know who you were and saying thank you to the staff members that kept them safe and on schedule.

And by the time Quentin was being rushed through a door and onto a platform in front of a room of maybe 200 people, he was beginning to understand the appeal of an event like this.

For the BookTube panel, Quentin and four other content creators sat behind a long table and answered questions about their work, their favorite books, and the community. He was nervous at first, but once he realized that he actually had a lot to say, he really leaned into it and found himself enjoying the process.

About halfway through, Quentin stopped being so anxious about how big the audience was and actually _looked_ out into the crowd. Unlike the rowdy masses outside, these folks looked like _him_. Nerdy and calm but quietly excited, occasionally laughing or clapping when it was appropriate. He took comfort in knowing that this could be what his audience looks like, rather than the group outside. These were _his people_.

Then, as he scanned the room, he spotted one head that stood above all the others. It was _Eliot_. He was _here_ , all the way in the back row, watching Quentin’s panel. Quentin suddenly felt very warm and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Quentin?”

Oh, whoops. “Sorry, could you repeat the question?” he asked the moderator, who was a very sweet woman with huge glasses. Right; he was supposed to be speaking on this panel right now.

“What’s your favorite thing about being a BookTuber?” she repeated patiently.

Quentin thought for a second. “Well I, um, if you’d asked me this question six months ago I probably would’ve said the ability to read and talk about books for a living. But uh, I think now I’d say my favorite part is that it’s helped me to meet some amazing people,” he stated into the microphone. “My comments are always full of, just, these thoughtful and brilliant book discussions. I always have someone around that I can talk to about Fillory or anything else I’ve read and um, well, I can think of at least one person in my life who’s really important to me that I never would’ve met without my channel.”

He dared to look up to the back of the room again, sending a pointed glance Eliot’s way. It was a little tough to pick out his features from a distance, but he could kind of tell that Eliot was smiling back there.

The rest of the panel went off without a hitch, but as the moderator started to tie things up, Quentin noticed that Eliot was getting up and leaving. They were finally in a room together and he was running off before Q could catch up to him. Why would he do that?

Then the audience applauded and a bunch of people started walking up to the platform. Once Q emerged from his thoughts for a second, he realized that these audience members wanted to talk to _him_.

“Quentin, could you sign this?” a really quiet girl asked, holding her copy of Fillory and Further Book 1 up to the table. She couldn’t have been more than 14 years old.

Q smiled. “Me? Really? Yeah, of course!” he stood up and reached over to grab it, then in an attempt to make the angle less awkward, he walked around the table and climbed down to the floor.

For the next ten minutes or so, until security came by to clear the room, Quentin signed autographs, said hello, and took photos with _his_ fans. A small cross-section of the people who waited for his every upload and responded to all of his discussion questions were here with him and they were so excited to meet him. It warmed his heart. He very nearly forgot that Eliot had bailed, in fact.

“Okay folks, we’ve got to get the room ready for the next panel. Time for Mr. Coldwater here to head backstage,” said a very cheery woman with a YouTubeCon staff shirt and the name ‘Amanda’ on her badge as she approached the remainder of the group. Quentin was apparently the last of the panelists out chatting with his fans, which he noticed once he broke out of the bubble of pride he’d been floating around in.

Q didn’t want them to go. He quietly hoped that he’d run into more of his fans later; it was surprisingly encouraging to get to speak face-to-face with the people who’ve made his job possible. “Thanks so much for coming - I hope I’ll see you all around!” he said.

“Quentin actually has a meet and greet coming up in Hall B in an hour if you’d like to attend!” she continued as she guided Q towards the back door they’d entered through.

“I do?” he asked once they were back in the secret hallway connecting all of the rooms on that floor. Okay, maybe Quentin _hadn’t_ actually read the schedule in the packet they’d given him, beyond the panel he already knew about.

“Yep! Feel free to take a quick break, but make sure you get to the back of Hall B in the next forty-five minutes so they can get you all set up,” she said kindly as she started to walk off down the bare hallway. “If you need directions anywhere, feel free to flag down one of us and we’ll get you where you’re going!”

For a minute, it was quiet. This event was a lot to handle, but Quentin was starting to be really glad that he made the trip. A quick thought occurred to him and he pulled out his phone, flipping the camera to face him and hitting record.

“So I just finished my first ever panel! I got to meet a really great lineup of fellow BookTubers and a bunch of you were there and it was actually kind of amazing? I was super nervous but uh, uh, it totally turned out okay. Just um, thank you for coming? If you were there? I hope I get to do something like this again someday because it was incredible,” Quentin vlogged, looking right at the phone’s lens as if it were a person. Having just seen the faces of some of the folks who would be watching certainly made that easier to picture.

Then, Q heard footsteps and he looked up to see a familiar head of dark, curly hair peeking around the corner Amanda had just disappeared around. He instantly forgot that he was filming.

Quentin did a double-take and a grin practically erupted on his face. “...Eliot?!”

At that, Eliot broke out into a run and headed straight for Q so he could pick him up in his arms and spin him around. “God, Q. It’s so good to see you,” El said, just bursting with emotion.

Q held on tight as he buried his face in Eliot’s shoulder, not even letting go once the spinning had stopped and Eliot put his feet back on the ground. Then, Quentin took a deep breath and tried to commit Eliot’s scent to memory. He smelled _so_ good. Clean and woodsy and masculine and _God_ , he wanted him. “I saw you leave - I thought you were avoiding me,” Quentin admitted sheepishly into Eliot’s ear.

“I stayed at the panel as long as I could but I was warned to relocate before the audience did, just in case. But then I thought I’d try to catch you back here on your way out,” Eliot said as he rubbed Q’s back, then he gently pushed Quentin away at arm’s length. “Here; let me get a good look at you.”

Quentin was blushing _immediately_ , but that wasn’t a surprise to either of them. He clicked his phone’s screen off and slipped it back into his pocket. Watching Eliot check him out like this was an _experience_. Q seized the opportunity to take in the tall drink of water standing before him, dressed to the nines in perfectly coordinated pieces. He had to tilt his head up all the way just to look him in the eye and that incredibly charged eye contact was something that totally caught him off-guard. Quentin had suspected he would be nervous when he finally got to do this but he actually _thrived_ on it. “I didn’t realize you were so tall,” Q muttered, still blushing and practically squirming where he stood.

Eliot was currently grappling with the opposite realization, that Quentin was tiny. He had at least six or seven inches on him and an emerging theory that he could tuck Q just under his chin if he pulled him close in just the right way. Frankly, El _loved_ this. Quentin was pocket-sized exactly the way he liked him and he couldn’t wait to investigate more of the ways that they fit together.

“You’re perfect, Q,” Eliot said as he let go of Quentin’s shoulders. “And you were great on that panel, by the way.”

Quentin reached for one of Eliot’s hands and laced their fingers together. “I can’t believe you’re here with me,” Q breathed out, moving in closer. His whole body filled up with this warm, prickly shiver and all he wanted was to finally get his mouth all over this gorgeous man. “Do you know how much you mean to me, El?”

And that was when Eliot started to freak out. He could toss out compliments and pickup lines all day long, but _this_ kind of intimacy was a lot for him to handle. The potential for sex wasn’t what threw him off; he’d been known to enjoy that casually just fine. In this case, the closeness he had with Quentin, online at least, was exponentially more terrifying in person. He had shared things with Q about himself and his feelings that he’d never uttered to another living soul. It was one thing to trust a kind-of stranger on the internet with your deepest darkest truths and entirely another to let them into your life outside of that. All of this had seemed so much easier when they were across the country from each other and hadn’t defined any kind of label for their relationship.

Here, Quentin was looking right into his eyes. Holding his hand. Being honest about his feelings. Gazing at him like that. Knowing all of Eliot’s secrets and _still wanting him_. How was Q so goddamned _brave_? And how did Eliot manage to get this far without seeing this coming? He was completely blindsided.

So he went for the first distraction he could find. “Do you have anywhere to be right now?” El asked. That could totally come off in a sexy way and definitely wouldn’t backfire unless Quentin’s schedule was clear.

Good news for Eliot; Quentin had agreed to participate in whatever YouTubeCon wanted and he lost his train of thought pretty easily. “Oh, shit! I have a meet and greet in Hall B pretty soon. I don’t even know where that is,” he laughed.

“Well I do too and I happen to know exactly how to get to Hall B from back here. Care to join me?” HighFashionEliot, suave as ever, let go of Quentin’s hand so he could hold out his elbow.

Q hooked his arm around Eliot’s as soon as it was offered and together, they walked to the back area of the meet and greet hall. Once they’d both checked in, YouTubeCon staff offered to escort them to the separate curtained off areas where their fans were waiting to meet them. Reluctantly, Quentin let go of Eliot’s arm and waved goodbye.

“See you after?” Quentin asked.

El nodded, then pushed through a curtain and found himself staring out into the growing line of supporters waiting to meet him.

He felt like absolute garbage.

* * *

The thing about keeping his distance from Quentin whenever possible was that it gave Eliot so many opportunities to just look at Quentin. His approach required pretty much always having eyes on Q when they were in the same room so he never had the chance to sneak up behind him. And that definitely did not help Eliot with maintaining his space because Quentin was _beautiful_.

Between interactions at his meet and greet, Eliot would shoot a quick glance to his left where Q was conducting his. And _fuck_ , what an absolute bright light this guy was. The kindest smile almost never left Quentin’s face as he stepped out in front of his table and welcomed fan after fan into his arms. He was just hugging _every single one_ of them like he knew what it would mean to them and didn’t care at all when they had last bathed.

I mean, Eliot _did_ try to be as nice as he could to his fans. He did like most of them and he truly appreciated their support, but someone can only have normal human boundaries crossed so many times before walls needed to be built up permanently for everyone. Quentin was so new to this, to being in a physical space with the community he created, that he was running into it with both arms open and it was nothing short of precious. Q was a trusting, adorable baby deer and Eliot could barely handle it without losing his cool.

In fact, Eliot found himself yearning to bail on his own meet and greet so he could go wait in line for a hug from Quentin. The single good thing about Q’s baggy layers of clothing was that hugging him, the one time he got to do it, felt warm and soft and _wonderful_. Unfortunately, what Eliot worried about was the potential for that hug to lead to conversations about feelings and he just wasn’t ready for that.

I mean, sure, he loved him.

Wait, what the fuck?

Eliot _loved_ him.

He was in so, _so_ much trouble.

* * *

When Quentin’s meet and greet line had emptied, he thanked the staff assisting him and stepped back through the curtain. He was one of the smaller creators here, so that made him one of the first to finish despite spending lots of extra time with each of the fans who had showed up.

He took a quick peek around the side of the barricade to verify his theory that Eliot was still meeting and greeting, and he was, so Quentin took out his phone and opened his text thread with Eliot.

**Q:** Looks like you have a bunch of people left. I might wait? There’s a lounge back here.

He walked through another set of curtains and headed over to a comfortable-looking chair. The makeshift room was sponsored by a lesser known social media site that had plastered its logo everywhere. Once he was settled, Quentin reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a book.

It didn’t take long before he noticed that the hall around him had gotten quieter. When he checked back outside of the curtain, everyone was gone except for a few staffers. Today’s morning meet and greet session was over. He fumbled for his phone again. No new messages. He contemplated saying nothing. I mean, less than 24 hours ago, he’d missed one of Eliot’s texts because his phone battery ran out. El would probably get around to replying eventually.

**Q:** Looks like we missed each other. You must’ve had a panel or something. I guess text me if you want to meet up later?

Then, dejectedly, he texted Julia to see if she wanted to grab some lunch and headed upstairs. Alone.

* * *

“How are things with Eliot? Did you finally get to meet him?” Julia asked as she sat down on a curb back out in the sunshine with her takeout.

Quentin moped a bit as he dug a fork around in his food container. “When I finally saw him, it was amazing. _He’s_ amazing,” he started, struggling to find his appetite. “But I can’t shake the feeling that, I don’t know, things are different in person.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Everything seemed fine when we were together except... he’s busy all the time. Too busy to see me and when we finally got in the same place, he was always running off somewhere. I mean, I’ve got stuff going on too, there’s a lot happening, but. Maybe I’m being too forward? Asking to see him too much? He attends every year, I’m sure he’s got other friends he wants to see.” Q had his phone out on the curb next to him. He picked it up and checked again. Eliot still hadn’t written back.

Julia tilted her head. She wasn’t sure what to say, but she certainly didn’t like seeing her best friend feeling like this. Fortunately, Quentin continued. His bottom lip started to shake.

“Is it... is it weird that we haven’t even kissed? God, I... we’ve been having sex over the phone for _months_ ,” Q confessed, suddenly feeling just totally embarrassed. He should’ve paid more attention to whether Eliot wanted this as much as he did. He should’ve noticed some kind of clue along the way.

Putting her food down, Julia just leaned over and let Quentin sink into her as she wrapped her arms around him. She rested her chin on his shoulder and rubbed his back.

“I’m going to kill him,” she said.

* * *

Meanwhile, Eliot was pacing back and forth in his hotel room. He had panicked and fled the building following his meet and greet, as expected after sneakily watching Quentin be a total and complete sweetheart to a line of like a hundred people.

He finally pulled out his phone and called Margo.

“Hey El, what’s up?” she asked, sounding bored.

“Bambi, I need you. I’ll pay for your Uber,” Eliot confessed.

He could hear her sighing on the other end. “Can’t a girl enjoy a few nights to herself in the apartment?” she groaned.

He closed his eyes. “Credenza,” he said, quietly and honestly.

Silence.

“Well, shit. If he hurt you -”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one hurting him,” Eliot sat down on the floor, resting his head up against the king size bed.

“Eliot,” Margo scolded. “What did I say about self-sabotaging?”

“How soon can you get here?”

* * *

Quentin luckily had a pretty full schedule all day. At the very least, it helped to have something to do and people to spend it with. As things were winding down at the convention for the night, he took one final look at his schedule that had been printed out for him on a folded piece of paper.

 _9pm - VIP Dance Party_

“Ugh,” Q groaned. The last thing he needed right now was to go dancing. At least his attendance wasn’t required for this one, but maybe he’d hang nearby in case he felt like stopping in for a drink.

The convention center was quieter after hours. He could barely even tell that it was the same building when it wasn’t filled with tens of thousands of attendees. As he walked, kicking discarded pieces of trash that had been abandoned on the floor, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

When Q reached the hallway outside the party, he settled into a little nook where no one was standing. Then he opened up the flap on his messenger bag and found himself faced with a question: should he read a book, or should he scroll through social media and see what people were posting about the event?

Despite his better judgment, Quentin picked up his phone and tapped on the Instagram app. He had somehow avoided doing this on the trip so far and there were lots of new image tags and followers waiting for him when he opened the app. Funny how spending time in real life with so many internet people made you forget to check the internet.

Unfortunately, right at the top of his feed was a circle with Eliot’s face in it, indicating that he had posted a new story. Quentin logically knew that this was not going to make him feel better, but he tapped on it anyway. He _missed_ Eliot. The version of him that he’d been getting to know, at least.

Q proceeded to watch a bunch of chronological short video clips and photos Eliot had posted over the course of the last 24 hours. He saw Eliot’s view from his seat at Quentin’s BookTube panel, with the words “I’m so proud!” displayed at the bottom alongside a crying face emoji.

A few stories later came a series of Q&A video clips where Margo read El fan questions in a hotel room and he answered each one candidly. Q didn’t want to get his hopes up, but this version of Eliot definitely sounded more like the guy he knew than the one he typically projected for his fan base. He found himself wondering how Eliot was managing his online persona an in-person event like this. Maybe that had something to do with the way El had been acting.

Quentin broke out of his thoughts for a second to listen to the final question.

_“Inquiring minds want to know, Eliot. Do you have a YouTube crush at the convention?” Margo asked, reading off of her phone and raising an eyebrow._

_For a second, video Eliot seemed frustrated. “Really, Bambi?” he side-eyed her quietly._

_“We’re filming!” she reminded him with a grin._

_“Fuck it, yeah I do. In fact, I’m hoping to get to see him later,” Eliot looked into the camera and winked._

Quentin immediately felt ill. He shut his phone off and practically threw it into his bag before leaning forward and covering his face with his hands.

 _That_ explains it, why El had been so distant and hard to pin down. This whole time, Eliot had been making plans with some other guy.

He couldn’t believe how naïve he had been, thinking that someone like Eliot would want to be with someone like him. And then things shifted and Quentin directed his anger towards Eliot instead. He had asked Q to fly across the whole fucking country to be here! Who _does_ that when they have someone else waiting on the other line?!

Quentin got up, dizzy from the way his head was metaphorically and physically spinning. But just before he could make a run for it, heading off to a door he could slam, Julia walked out of the party room doors guarded by two very large bouncers. She seemed surprised to see him.

“Wait, you did come after all? I thought you were tired,” Julia said.

“Oh, I am _really_ fucking tired of all of this,” Q replied, fuming. His whole body was shaking, and not in the good way.

Julia reached out and held onto Quentin’s shoulders. “Whoa. Let’s get you a drink. Come dance with me. We’ll blow off some steam, okay?”

Q was not in a place to refuse, and to be honest, he probably needed this. But then, he paused for a second. “Is he... is he in there?” Quentin asked, down quite a few notches from his previous outburst.

“Yeah, he is,” Julia admitted. “But we can avoid him; it’s a big room. You can still have a good time, Q.”

She waited patiently for a few seconds, searching Quentin’s face for some kind of indication that this was okay.

“Was he... was he there with anyone?” he practically whispered.

“Oh! Um, what was her name - his roommate? The two of them have been inseparable all night. They keep pushing away anyone else who gets close,” Julia recalled. “Kind of weird, right?”

Q looked up. They’re - what?

When they were first getting to know each other, Eliot had tried to explain to Quentin exactly what Margo meant to him. She was his everything, his platonic life partner, his soulmate. Whenever he was going through anything particularly difficult, he would shut out the entire world and throw himself at her feet and Margo would always drop everything and take care of him. She knew him and understood him better than anyone in the world and if Eliot was currently blocking out all non-Margo humans in a public way, then it was pretty safe to assume that Eliot was not only single but also in especially rough shape.

Quentin had made a horrible mistake.

“Okay; I’ll go,” Q said, trying to collect himself and gather up whatever courage he had left.

“Really? That’s great! It’ll be fun, Q, I promise,” Julia said, failing to hide her excitement.

As they stepped through the doors and into the dark, loud, crowded space, Quentin seriously hoped that she was right.


	4. VIP Dance Party

The loud bass notes in the dance music happened to be synchronized with Quentin’s pounding heart as he pushed his way through the crowd. Someone working for the convention pressed a few free drink tickets into his hand as he went, but he kept moving. He followed in the path Julia left behind, feeling grateful that she’d decided to lead him to a less populated area of the room.

They scouted out a few empty seats around a table near the bar area and Quentin sat down while Julia went to redeem their drink tickets. He took a deep breath and combed his hair back out of his face with his fingers, taking just a second to calm himself down.

Quentin hadn’t intended to confront Eliot right away but there was no harm in _looking_ at him, right? Because not even a minute into sitting down, Q had noticed Eliot dancing across the room. He towered over everyone on that dance floor, so it’s not like Quentin had to go out of his way to find him. And now that he’d found Eliot, he couldn’t just not watch.

Eliot was _magnetic_. Q kept trying to play it cool, to stare off into the middle distance somewhere, but he just couldn’t bring himself to look away for long. Since he’d last seen him, El had been through a wardrobe change and he looked incredible. And Julia was right; it appeared that Eliot had blocked the whole world out except for Margo and he was just soaking up the music and the attention as he moved his body.

Despite still feeling pretty angry and upset, Quentin found himself overwhelmed by another emotion; deeply intense yearning. He wanted so badly to power walk over there and slip himself right between Eliot and Margo like he belonged there. To lean up towards Eliot’s ear, grinding against him all the while, and tell him exactly how his behavior has made him feel, then challenge him to do something about it.

Julia returned with alcohol not a minute too late and slid Quentin’s drink across the table to him. “Feeling okay?” she checked in.

“I feel like I’m going to vomit,” Quentin said. He picked up the drink and took a sip. Even if he wasn’t planning on immediately interacting with Eliot, the idea of being in a room with him when things had not been going as expected was a lot.

His best friend bit her lip, clearly weighing her options here. “Do you want me to go talk to him?” she asked, ever predictably. Julia would fight to the ends of the Earth to protect Quentin.

“No,” he pouted, just a little. “I think I need to tell him myself. Just... not yet.”

* * *

Meanwhile, across the room, Margo was on a best friend mission of her own. Step one: dance the shit out of this party. Step two: get Eliot’s unfairly beautiful head out of his ass and send him off into the arms of his online beau. Step three: look fucking flawless while doing it and maybe even attract a potential lay for later when Eliot and Quentin are inevitably getting it on in El’s hotel room.

The current song ended and as the opening baseline to a new one began, Margo made an executive decision that it was time to get things in motion. “As much as I love dry-humping you in this crowd of people who talk to cameras in their bedrooms for a living, when exactly were you planning to text the boy and get this whole mess cleared up?” she asked, giving Eliot powerful eye contact. Seriously; this woman could look straight into his soul.

Eliot stopped dancing, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead. “I was honestly considering curling up into a ball on my hotel room floor for the rest of the convention,” he admitted. “Could we do that instead?”

“Absolutely not. Come here,” she demanded, pulling him by the hand off of the dance floor to a spot along the wall where she could hear him better. “El, talk to me. What are you so worried about?”

He paused for a second, carefully considering his response. Eliot took a moment to let out the breath he’d been holding, then he began. “When I get a shitty comment on one of my videos, it rolls right off my back. Every time. And you know me; I’m not immune to getting my feelings hurt. That seems uncharacteristic, right?” he said. “At some point, the thought occurred to me. Those comments were about HighFashionEliot, not me. I spent so long building up this persona, this hard exterior, that they can’t touch me. I’m unstoppable, Bambi.”

Suddenly, Margo understood. “You let Quentin past the armor,” she acknowledged, bringing her whole demeanor down a few pegs.

“So if he realizes I’m not what he expected, if we’re not sexually compatible in person, if he decides he’d just rather be with someone who lives closer...” he started.

“One-hit KO, straight to the heart,” Margo continued. They always could finish each other’s sentences.

Eliot cracked a smile through all of that pain. “You’re such a nerd,” he cooed at her, fond as ever.

“You’re forgetting something though,” Margo said.

“And that is?” Eliot asked.

“He makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you, El,” she pointed out, then she reached for his upper arm and squeezed it. “And you deserve to be loved by someone who sees you, flaws and all, and still wants you. That’s gonna take some vulnerability but please, for the love of Helena Bonham Carter, you have to _try_.”

Eliot looked down for a second, shutting his eyes and smiling. His Bambi somehow always knew exactly what to say. “Okay,” he whispered.

Margo’s face lit up with a proud smile. “Good. Now tell me what I can do to help.”

* * *

For a while, Quentin and Julia had a few drinks. They even found themselves talking about something that wasn’t Eliot. But at one point, Q looked up from what had become his cozy, safe corner of the chaotic party and he noticed that El had relocated. He took a minute to scan his eyes around the room, and then he spotted him. Standing up against the wall. Alone.

Where was -

“Coldwater. I need to talk to you,” Margo suddenly walked into Quentin’s field of vision, scaring the ever-living crap out of him.

“Jesus!” he startled, nearly spilling his drink. “Hello to you too, Margo,” Q sassed, barely skipping a beat.

Julia stood up from her seat in slow motion. “I’m just gonna... go over there,” she said, then excused herself.

Margo, who didn’t seem to notice that anyone else was there, looked Quentin over for a few seconds, sizing him up.

He furrowed his brow. “Am I in trouble or something?” he asked, not entirely sure why Margo was immediately being this hostile towards him. But before he could start going over everything he’d said to El in the last 48 hours and wondering if maybe he himself had done something wrong, she sat down in the vacant chair next to him.

“Do you care about Eliot?” she asked, looking him dead in the eye.

Quentin’s chest felt warm. “Of course I do,” he replied gently. “I came all this way just to see him and I, I’m trying to give him space if that’s what he needs, but,” then Q took a deep breath. His last line barely made it out of his mouth, clinging for dear life on the edge of a whimper. “I thought he liked me, Margo.”

For a moment, he saw a flicker of relief on her face. Then, with the smallest hint of a smile, Margo leaned in closer and said, “Then check your phone.”

With that, she began to make her exit. But before she did, she turned around one last time.

“I swear to God, if you hurt him...” Margo started, pointing one manicured fingernail right at his heart, then she left for the bar, not giving him a chance to respond.

Quentin froze for a second, then he remembered Margo’s instructions. He got up from the chair; half out of the nervous need to stand up, half so he could pull his phone out of his pocket easily. The phone still had forty percent battery left, thankfully, but there weren’t any new messages. Without even really thinking about it, he looked up to where Eliot had been standing and found him staring straight back at him from across the room. He almost looked... afraid.

Then, after a moment, Eliot ducked his head down to type something into his phone.

Longest ten seconds of Quentin’s life. His heart was racing when the first message came through.

**El:** Hi.

Quentin laughed. He wasn’t sure why, but after the spectrum of emotions that he’d experienced that day, this seemed hilarious.

**Q:** Hi, El.

**El:** ...

**El:** Do you remember our first time? When you asked to switch from a video call to text, because it was too hard to let me look at you like that?

Flashes of an accidental FaceTime, a lot of blushing, and a really satisfying night of mutual masturbation flooded Quentin’s memory. It had taken a lot for Q to trust Eliot with his care in such a vulnerable way that night and finally deciding to let him in had felt incredible.

**Q:** Of course. 

**El:** Quentin, this is something that’s really hard for me.

**El:** Can we talk here?

For some reason, Quentin felt relieved. He still didn’t know whether he was about to experience a proposal or a breakup in some form or another, but he could certainly relate to the concept that Eliot felt more comfortable admitting difficult truths over text. Without even realizing it, he had looked back up at Eliot who was looking over at him, desperately waiting for a response.

**Q:** Yeah. I’m listening.

* * *

Eliot nervously ran a hand through his curls, definitely messing up the way he had carefully arranged them earlier. He wasn’t even sure that he could do this, but as Margo had told him before she stormed off to locate Quentin, it was now or never.

**El:** I’m really sorry I’ve been avoiding you.

**El:** It’s just, you’re everything I’d hoped. More, really. So naturally, I finally got you in my arms and then I completely freaked out.

**El:** I’ve shared so much of myself with you, Q. My real, whole, authentic self. Way more than I typically do with anyone except Margo. And the thought that you might see me up close after all of that and reject me, well, I couldn’t handle it. So I made a break for it.

**Q:** I only wanted to spend time with you.

**El:** I want that too.

Eliot squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Deep breaths. Now or never.

**El:** Quentin, I’m falling in love with you.

There it was. It was out there now. And while he had no clue what was going to happen next, one thing was absolutely certain. If this didn’t go well, Eliot was done for. Toast.

**Q:** _Eliot_.

**El:** Hello.

**Q:** I love you _too_ , you asshole.

Eliot’s heart was going to burst. He was elated and relieved and terrified and incredibly unable to deal with the physical distance between him and Quentin. But before he could rush across the room and absolutely maul the man he loved with kisses, a few more messages came through.

**Q:** My turn now?

**Q:** You can’t do this to me anymore. If you’re scared, even if you need time to figure things out, _tell me_.I can’t wait around for you if I don’t know whether you’ll ever come back.

**Q:** I don’t care if you still can’t put a name on what we have. I just need to know I’m not alone in it, okay?

**El:** I want to be with you.

**Q:** You... _what_?

Admitting his feelings for Quentin over text messages gave Eliot a rush of adrenaline and he just made the decision to utterly and completely go for it before that courage ran out.

**El:** Here, online, at home. I want to be your boyfriend.

**El:** Q, I can’t picture being with anyone else.

**Q:** _Eliot_.

**El:** Is that a yes?

**Q:** Of course it’s a yes. I’m _yours_ , El. 

Eliot’s knees went weak and he reached back towards the wall to steady himself. This was really, finally happening.

**Q:** Can I kiss you now?

**El:** If you don’t, I am actually going to explode.

Eliot looked up as he tucked his phone into his back pocket, feeling more hopeful than he had in years. His eyes searched the crowd, desperate to find Quentin and kiss Quentin and _touch_ Quentin. They were here, in the same room, and that yearning to be close to him and show him how much he meant to him and make him feel good with his hands was almost too much to bear.

And then he saw him. Quentin was politely making his way through the packed dance floor, muttering what Eliot could only assume was some variation on “Oops, sorry... excuse me!” and leading with his arms out in front of him as his big, masculine hands reached out to carve a path.

When Q successfully arrived at the other side where the crowd thinned, he took a moment to look around and reorient himself after being surrounded by people much taller than him. Then, he was rushing towards Eliot and grabbing fistfuls of his vest so he could pull Eliot closer, tilting his jaw up and up and up.

El went easily, more easily than he’d ever done anything in his life, as he leaned down and wrapped his arms around the happily vibrating man reaching up to kiss him.

For just a second, they hovered there, inches away from each other. Eliot could barely handle the look on Quentin’s face; his heart leapt in response to the pure, unadulterated love he found there. And then El closed the rest of the gap, briefly nuzzling his nose against Q’s before he shut his eyes and pressed his mouth to his.

It was a sweet, gentle thing at first. They had both waited so long to be able to do this and it was like time slowed down just for them so they wouldn’t take a single second for granted.

Quentin melted against him once they’d settled into the kiss, slowly flattening his palms out on Eliot’s chest so he could slide them up his neck and into his hair.And El put all of his attention into softly parting Quentin’s lips and taking a moment to taste him. He tilted his head into Quentin’s hand, chasing his touch like a cat, and kissed him with everything he had in him. Encouraged by the new knowledge that El wanted to be touched like this, Q caressed Eliot’s face with his thumb before rubbing it up and down the shell of his ear.

When they finally pulled apart to look at each other, they froze. And then, out of nowhere, Quentin started to _laugh_. Eliot panicked for a second until he realized that his was a perfectly appropriate response to the pure relief of knowing that they were compatible. In fact, they were on the exact same fucking page physically. He smiled and pressed his forehead up against Q’s.

“Well I’m sorry Q, but now that I know you kiss like _that_ , I’m not going to be able to think about anything else for the rest of the convention,” Eliot admitted as he held him close.

“We could’ve been doing this for two entire days already,” Q pointed out just before he leaned forward mouth first and just started laying an army of kisses all over Eliot’s lips and cheeks and jaw.

Eliot literally couldn’t stop himself from grinning, despite the fact that it made it difficult for Q to continue kissing him. He felt lighter than air and it’s lucky that Quentin was holding onto him so tightly because otherwise, he might have just floated away out of pure joy. “Want to go somewhere more private so we can make up for lost time?” he asked, choosing to ignore the burn of nervousness in the pit of his stomach.

Yup, there it was, that deliciously predictable blush blooming all over Quentin’s cheeks as he pulled back a few inches and thought about what that would entail. Eliot reached up and touched Q’s face, wanting to feel the warmth of it against his fingers.

“First of all, _yes_ ,” Quentin said emphatically, but then he continued. “But not yet. I kind of want to... will you, will you dance with me first?” He flipped his gaze up into Eliot’s eyes, full of longing and sweetness.

“Oh my _gosh_ , you’re cute. Of _course_ I’ll dance with you,” Eliot leaned in and pecked Quentin right on the lips, then he let go of him. “Hold that thought,” he added, then he ran off.

Q spun around, trying to figure out why his boyfriend was running _away_ from him right now, but a few seconds later, he noticed that Eliot was up at the DJ stand making a song request. In the process, Quentin also spotted Julia who was dancing with a bunch of her YouTuber friends. She gave him a thumbs up when she noticed, raising her eyebrows to make sure he was doing okay.

Then, Quentin smiled. He was doing really fucking great.

Eliot reappeared about a minute later, running up behind him and draping his arm low on Q’s hips. “Sorry for my random unexplained exit, I just... Q, as much as I want to grind up against you in a room full of sweaty content creators, I had something slower in mind,” he said.

Happier than ever to have his guy back within snuggling distance, Quentin reached up to rest his arm around Eliot’s middle. “Sounds great, but is the DJ going to listen to you?” Q teased.

“I’m very persuasive, I’ll have you know,” Eliot laughed. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Right on cue, the current song ended and a new one began with moderately paced, sweeping piano chords. A satisfied Eliot reached for Quentin’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Then Quentin pulled Eliot closer and nestled his head into El’s chest as they swayed back and forth. Eliot was right; this was exactly what they needed right now.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Eliot remarked, barely above a whisper. It almost sounded like it wasn’t intended for anyone to hear.

“Real-ly into you,” Quentin joked, his voice cracking with the unexpected honesty of it.

El rolled his eyes. “ _Really_ , Q?” he laughed. He leaned down and pressed a kiss into Quentin’s hair for good measure.

“You _like_ that I’m this way,” Quentin pointed out, hiding his sassy grin in Eliot’s vest.

“Is it that obvious?” Eliot whispered. He was so fucking fond of this nerd.

* * *

After dancing to a few more songs, and yes, grinding up against each other in a room full of sweaty content creators, Quentin couldn’t wait any longer and he pulled Eliot by the arm right out of there. They ran through the empty convention center, across to the hotel lobby, and into an elevator.

Since no one else was in there, they took the opportunity to make out a little as soon as the elevator doors slid closed. Eliot had Quentin pressed up against the wall, squeezing his ass in his hands as he licked into his mouth.

They turned things around surprisingly quickly when they arrived on their floor, rushing out to flash their VIP badges at the security guard stationed there before they took off towards Eliot’s room.

It took a bit longer than usual for Eliot to get out his key card and unlock the hotel room door, mostly because Quentin couldn’t get his hands off of him and it was incredibly distracting. But eventually, that little green light flashed and the door clicked open.

Quentin followed Eliot right in, emboldened by their elevator kiss and the buildup of how long he’d been waiting to let Eliot ravage him in person. If El was anywhere near as sexy and thoughtful in bed as he had been in text messages, Q was in for the night of his life.

He hung back in the entryway as El got things ready for him. He bent over to click on the lamp by the single king size bed in the middle of the room and peeled back the covers. The room was already clean and the bed had been made with fresh sheets, but still, Eliot’s first instinct was to create a comfortable place for Q to be.

“Here, have a drink of water,” El suggested, reaching into the mini fridge and handing Q one of the water bottles he had stashed there. 

Quentin let out a little laugh, but he was thirsty so he reached for the bottle and took a swig as he sauntered over and sat down on the side of the bed. Okay, maybe he _had_ needed that. Eliot, who was apparently a really intuitive host, just seemed to _know_.

“Thanks, El,” he said, twisting the cap back onto the water bottle and wiping the excess moisture from his mouth. Apparently that did it for Eliot because when he moved the back of his hand away, El was sitting down next to him and gazing at him with wild, dark eyes like he wanted to _eat_ him.

For a moment, El looked like he was about to say something. Then, he actually did. “I’ve thought a lot about how this would go, when we finally got alone together,” he said.

Quentin’s stomach flipped pleasantly and he put his water on the nightstand, nearly missing the edge of it. He reached over and covered Eliot’s hand on the bed with his. “Tell me?” he asked, looking deeply into El’s eyes. Q always loved hearing Eliot describe this sort of thing over the phone. But here? Where he could reach out and touch him? Where those words could become _actions_?

Eliot reached across the distance between them, taking hold of Quentin’s hips. “Come here,” he drawled, deepening his voice. Of course, Q went willingly, lifting one leg over and settling in El’s lap facing him. This put him at the perfect height, boosted up just enough to look directly into Eliot’s eyes. Yet another example of how their height difference was just so good. Deep breaths, El.

“In the first version, we can’t keep our hands off each other, can’t get our clothes off fast enough. You get a little rough with me, biting my lip and begging to be pinned down on the bed. And then these months and months of wanting, of being so far away and so damn worked up, just fuel us into this passionate, intense whirlwind of a fuck,” Eliot described.

At the suggestion that they could do exactly that, right now if he wanted to, Quentin shivered. “What’s the second version?” Q whispered, hovering just above Eliot’s lips.

El smiled. He rested his hands on Quentin’s thighs and slid them up until they were gripping onto his hips. Then, he leaned in close and spoke really softly into Quentin’s ear. “We’d go nice and slow. I take you apart, piece by piece, whispering in your ear the whole time until you’re naked and begging for it. I’d hold you close and touch you all over and give you everything you want, but we could really take our time and enjoy it until we’re too turned on to think anymore. I’ve got nowhere else to be tonight, Quentin. I’m all yours,” Eliot purred.

Q was absolutely gone for this man. He couldn’t hold off any longer. He tilted forward, claiming Eliot’s mouth with his own, then rocked his hips against Eliot’s abdomen. “The second one,” Q decided. “For now.”

Smoothing his hands all over Quentin’s chest and shoulders, Eliot grinned. “That would’ve been my choice too. God, I’ve been waiting so long for this,” El said as he tugged at the hem of Quentin’s shirt. “Can I take these off? Want to see you, baby,” he asked.

Quentin was nodding before Eliot had even finished his sentence, turning the movement into a sweet nuzzle along El’s jaw as he felt the cool air against his skin. Q lifted his arms when needed and reached forward to unbutton Eliot’s vest as soon as his own shirt had been tossed to the floor.

They took their time getting each other undressed, making kind observations about their bodies as they went. Sure, they’d sent each other photos, but being up close and getting to actually reach out and touch made this feel completely new and exciting.

When Quentin had to leave Eliot’s lap for pants removal purposes, he made the cutest pout in protest. “Aw, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” El said as he helped Quentin onto the bed on his back. Then, Eliot stood up and dropped his pants and underwear in one quick motion.

Q suddenly dropped the act as soon as he looked up from the bed at a completely naked Eliot. “Whoa,” he whispered under his breath. The look on Quentin’s face was incredible.

Now, it was Eliot’s turn to blush. “Whoa yourself, handsome,” he tried to flirt his way out of how good it felt to have Quentin staring at him like that. “Here, let’s get these off,” El said as he leaned forward over Q on the bed and started work his belt and black pair of jeans open. Eliot tugged just the jeans down to start, leaving Q feeling rather exposed in just a pair of boxer briefs.

“Wait,” Quentin started when he noticed that Eliot was logically preparing to go for those next. He reached out for one of El’s hands and took it, then gently started to pull Eliot onto the bed with him.

“Everything okay?” Eliot checked in as he went willingly and laid down next to Quentin.

Q swallowed and nodded, closing his eyes. “Yeah, I - I just,” he tried to calm his racing thoughts. “Can... can I leave those on for a little longer?” Then, he opened his eyes, so bravely just looking right into Eliot’s. Because Quentin had never felt one hundred percent comfortable sending El full frontal photos, Eliot had always stressed the fact that he wasn’t under any pressure to do that. This was totally new territory.

Eliot was once again caught off guard by how kind and gentle and honest this human was. “Course,” he said, in a higher pitch than usual. Barely skipping a beat before he switched approaches, El leaned in closer, wrapping an arm around Q and placing the softest whisper of a kiss on his lips. Then, he rubbed his stubbly cheek against Quentin’s and leaned closer to his ear. “Do you want to touch me, Q?”

“ _God_ yes,” Quentin almost laughed, so giddy with the idea of it that he forgot how shy he had felt a few seconds ago. Now that he had permission, he looked down between them andguided his hand to where he could gently brush his fingers along Eliot’s length.

Following a quick intake of breath, Eliot’s eyes fluttered shut. The softness of Q’s touch, his immediate inclination to just watch as he let his hand explore, and the utter sweetness of it all was almost too much.

“You’re bigger than I expected,” Q mentioned out loud as he studied Eliot’s body with this lovely, intense focus.

El rested his cheek against the top of Quentin’s head, leaning back into the mattress as he relaxed. “Is that something you like?” he asked before briefly kissing Q’s hair.

Just touching Eliot was getting Quentin more and more worked up. He was starting to breathe a little heavier. “Uh huh,” he nodded. “At least - I think...”

More new territory. As curious as Eliot was about Q’s sexual history, with men or otherwise, he guessed that this wasn’t the best time to ask.

To Eliot’s surprise and delight, Quentin continued. “I think I’d like... I want to know how it feels to... El, could you _fuck_ me tonight?” he managed to get out amid his racing thoughts. Q looked right into his eyes, eyebrows pinching the cutest crease right into the center of his forehead. For just a second, he paused the motion of his arm to hold El softly in his strong, square hand.

“Yeah, Q, I’d really love that,” Eliot said in this gorgeous, sexy voice, honestly kind of blown away by the courage it must’ve taken for him to ask that. He’d been given the impression that this wasn’t Q’s usual Friday night activity, and even if it was, Quentin still displayed a fair amount of bashfulness around conversations about sex. He’d always made it clear that he wanted it, if asked, he just didn’t always know how to say so. Saying the words never bothered Eliot though, so he could usually figure out what Quentin needed to feel good with some detective work.

El lifted his head and tilted it so he could kiss the gorgeous, mostly naked man beside him again. He dragged his tongue along the inside of Q’s parted lips, moaning gently into his mouth when he felt Quentin’s hand start up again.

They continued this for a little while, melting into each other and indicating when something felt especially good. Then, without warning, Quentin pitched his hips forward on an impulse and gave Eliot’s stomach a very clear indication of just how hard and wet he was inside those boxer briefs.

Eliot took a bit of a risk. “Permission to touch you?” he asked. “I want to make you feel good so badly.”

“Please?” Q practically squeaked.

Not at all deterred by the thin fabric, El rubbed his palm along Quentin’s front, occasionally slipping around to the back and cupping his ass. It had somehow never occurred to Eliot that their online interactions were pretty much exclusively front-facing. He didn’t have any clue what he was missing until he encountered Q in person and happened to catch him turned towards someone else. And God, what a view.

The longer Eliot touched him, the more comfortable Quentin became. Q knew he didn’t have anything to be nervous about, but actually being here and doing these things was a lot to take in. And before he could question the urge to feel skin on skin, Quentin was kicking off his underwear and Eliot was stroking him earnestly.

“Talk to me?” Q asked as he wrapped both arms around Eliot. He figured that hearing El’s voice the way he had at home might help him keep his mind off his anxiety.

El smiled and pressed a kiss against Quentin’s ear, then snaked his free arm under Q’s head so he could wrap it around Q’s shoulders. “About anything in particular?” he asked.

Quentin gasped at the pleasure emanating from Eliot’s skilled jerks. “God, mm. I don’t know, ohh. Talk about my... my body. How I’m doing. What you’re feeling. How are you so good at this?” Q moaned, wriggling into the mattress.

This, Eliot could do.

“You have this incredible little body, Q, and you’re such a good mover, I can barely handle it.”

“You’re so gorgeous like this, baby. Just laying here in my arms and letting me touch you exactly the way you like it. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Where did all of these muscles come from? Have you been, like, swimming laps and hiding it from me?”

“And God, your dick is the most perfect handful. It feels amazing. I can’t wait to get it in my mouth if you’d like that - will you let me taste it sometime?”

El had spent the last few months equipped with only his words, and now he could speak them directly into Quentin’s ear. He could _feel_ how Q reacted to them, how he twitched and moaned and squeaked under his touch.

As things moved along, Quentin became more and more pliant, melting into whatever position he was gentled towards and letting his hands wander all over Eliot’s body. Q couldn’t go more than a few minutes without putting his mouth on something and he took care of Eliot with an attentiveness and enthusiasm that was unmatched.

Meanwhile, El kept Q’s earlier request in mind and guided him there slowly, talking dirty to him and making sure that Quentin was still on board all along the way.

“You’re being so good for me, Q. What did I do to deserve someone so wonderful?”

“God, the _sounds_ you’re making. I love it when you tell me how turned on you are.”

“I’m gonna get you ready for me, beautiful. Just relax and please tell me if anything doesn’t feel good; I want to make it so good for you.”

“We’re almost there, baby. You feel incredible. Do you still want me inside you or do you want to switch gears?”

Q was so worked up, he could barely think. Questions were difficult when he felt like this. But he knew how important consent was to Eliot, so he tried as hard as he could to articulate that he was totally into what was happening.

“ _Fuck_. Yeah, El. Wanna feel you - all of you. I _need_ to,” Quentin managed to get out despite the way his mind was screaming _Eliot Eliot Eliot_. He didn’t even have room in his head for nervousness anymore.

The truth was, Quentin _hadn’t_ done this before. Eliot didn’t know for sure, but he took things so slowly and worked him open so thoroughly that it didn’t really matter. He figured they could talk about it another time if Q ever wanted to share that with him. For now, they both just concentrated on each other and on being fully present in the white hot, mind-numbing pleasure they were bringing each other.

Eliot told him exactly what he needed from him and Quentin took him like a champ. And before they knew it, they’d found an especially good rhythm together.

After being so far apart for so long, what they both wanted more than anything else was to be as close as two people can physically be. And tonight, they finally got it. 


	5. Prom

The next morning, Eliot became aware of his surroundings very slowly. He vaguely registered the sound of a few kids running down the hallway outside and soft light filtering in through the giant windows along the hotel room wall. He thought that maybe he felt someone’s hands on his face, and once he had the awareness to open his eyes a tiny sliver, he couldn’t hold back just the biggest, most genuine smile.

“Oops... sorry, I... I promise I didn’t mean to wake you, I just -”

And there he was, Quentin Coldwater, naked and blushing and wrapped in starchy white sheets, tenderly holding Eliot’s face in his strong, square hands. Q retracted his limbs as soon as he realized he’d woken Eliot up and hid them back under the bedding.

“You just...” El suggested, his voice groggy and full of sleep. Quentin often lost his train of thought or became embarrassed mid-sentence, at least when they were talking in person or on the phone. Through text, he had more of a chance to edit himself before he sent things, but Eliot had become pretty good at giving Quentin the nudges he needed occasionally. Whether he just needed time to work it out or the reminder that Eliot did care what he had to say, Q responded really well to this. Most other people in Quentin’s life got tired of waiting.

Q took in a breath. “I just had to make sure you weren’t... a dream,” he said, initially feeling embarrassed but eventually beginning to bloom under the knowledge that Eliot always listened when he spoke.

What did Eliot do to deserve this sweet, wonderful human? “Get in here,” El crooned in the sexiest sleepy voice he could muster and his heart leapt as soon as Quentin practically jumped into his arms, pressing his cheek to Eliot’s bare chest and squeezing him tightly.

They laid like that for a while, with El stroking Quentin’s hair. He could tell that Q’s mind was already running a mile a minute and he could feel his heart pounding. “What do you have going on today? Are you scheduled for anything?” Eliot asked in an attempt to steer Quentin away from any worries he might be stuck on.

Quentin nuzzled his stubbly face into El’s chest hair. “Not much. I’m supposed to be at this BookTube meetup, we’re doing blind date with a book at like 2pm? And there’s...” Q trailed off, kind of mumbling and then stopping entirely.

Once it was clear that Quentin had lost the trail again, Eliot gently reminded him where he’d left off. “What’s after that?” Eliot asked, nudging Q’s head with his nose. He could feel Q’s cheek warming up against him.

“It’s normally not my thing, but... there’s um. There’s a YouTube prom happening tonight? Not a VIP thing, just a regular... attendee thing,” Quentin rambled a bit.

El smiled, resisting the urge to tease Q because quite honestly, El was giddy about this sudden development. Sure, prom was not something that everyone was into, especially considering that many of the folks here were over the age of 21 and did not go to high school together. But it was an excuse to get dressed up and take cheesy couple photos and slow dance with some cuties. Maybe catch a glimpse of your favorite YouTubers if they dared to step outside of the secure VIP area.

“I um, Julia told me it would be happening. I wasn’t sure if I’d go, especially since it’ll be a lot of people, but I... I brought a suit just in case? And... you’re here,” Q continued.

“Are you asking me to prom, Quentin?” Eliot asked with a hint of laughter evident in his voice.

Q was flat-out burying his face into Eliot’s chest now, pulling closer to him as if he could burrow further in. “Yes,” he replied, muffled and squeaky and so warm. Quentin was like a very cuddly, very easily worked up space heater.

Eliot leaned down and pressed a kiss into Quentin’s hair, then turned so he could rest his cheek against the top of Q’s head. “I’d love to go with you. Can I dress you?” El asked.

_That_ got Quentin’s attention. Snapping out of the temporary sense of nervousness that had washed over him, he pulled his head back so he could look at Eliot again. “Like, choose what I wear or physically put the clothes on me?” he asked, half teasing the somewhat ridiculous nature of that question and half unable to quit smiling because he, a grown adult, would be taking his new boyfriend to _prom_.

“Mmm, both?,” El brushed Q’s hair back behind his ear. His hair was so soft. “Every year I document what everyone wears in a video for my channel. People go all-out. I’d love to see you all dressed up.”

Q blushed. “Okay,” he said, leaning into Eliot’s touch.

“As much as I want to lay here naked with you forever, do you want to go get some breakfast with me? I think we’ll make it in time for the VIP buffet,” El asked.

Quentin looked over at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. “I guess. Can we at least stop by my room so I can get some clothes?” he groaned.

“Absolutely not,” Eliot teased, then winked at him. “Think Julia’s awake yet?”

* * *

Julia was not awake.

On their way over to the room, Quentin had sent a few text messages just to give her a heads up that he was stopping in. No response.

“Maybe just hang back, I’ll sneak in and change,” Q whispered as he unlocked the door, then poked his head in.

The first thing he noticed was a tray of last night’s room service on the floor by the entrance - had Jules ordered... champagne and chocolate covered strawberries?

And as he stepped inside, he heard Julia stirring on the bed along the far wall. He tiptoed in, letting Eliot catch the door and hold it open a crack so it wouldn’t shut loudly.

“Q?” Julia mumbled sleepily.

Already halfway into the bathroom with a change of clean clothes, Quentin whispered, “Sorry Jules, didn’t mean to wake you - I’ll only be a sec.”

“Well look who stayed out all night!” came a voice that Quentin was not expecting to hear in his room first thing in the morning.

He quickly did a double-take from the bathroom doorway, then immediately averted his eyes when he realized what was happening. “...Margo?!”

“Aaaand there it is,” Julia rolled her eyes, sinking way down under the sheets to hide. At least she’d been mostly covered up when she heard Quentin come in.

“I hear Bambi; can I come in now?” A voice that was unmistakably Eliot called from the hallway.

“Oh, why not. Let’s invite the neighbors too!” Julia sarcastically called from beneath her cave of bedding.

Taking that as a yes, El sauntered in, looking absolutely giddy. “Good morning, ladies!” he called, reaching into the closet for two hotel-branded robes without even skipping a beat and delivering them to their bed, ever the gentleman. “We won’t be long,” Eliot said, then he winked at Margo and mouthed the word, _Nice_.

“Thanks, Eliot. Things went well, then?” Margo said, sitting up in the bed, completely unbothered by her own nudity despite the company.

“Incredible. You?” El said as he walked back across the room and sat down at the desk, giving the girls some space.

“Earth-shatteringly satisfying,” Margo replied nonchalantly.

Julia allowed just the top half of her head to peek up out of the sheets. She had quite the sex hair splayed across her pillow. “Are you guys... real?” she rasped, appearing to have given into the embarrassment at this point.

Then, a cleaned up and absolutely mortified Quentin emerged from the bathroom, tugging on his convention lanyard and trying to focus on the floor instead of the women in the room. “Um, okay! We’re going to breakfast now! See you later,” he called a little too loudly, blushing fiercely.

“But wait, I barely got to drag you for taking the spot I was promised in El’s hotel room!” Margo grinned as she climbed out of Julia’s bed and put on one of the robes Eliot had brought over.

“Bye, Margo!” Quentin said as he grabbed Eliot’s hand and made a break for the door.

* * *

Like it wasn’t a big deal at all, Eliot led Quentin through a door marked “Staff Only” and into a service elevator. He navigated them through unassuming back hallways and outside into a bright alley where an SUV with tinted windows and leather seats waited to shuttle them over to the convention center.

“So you’re telling me I could’ve done this instead of wading through the crowd the whole time?” Quentin asked. He was delighted to discover free strawberry hard candies tucked in a compartment on his side of the car. They were the kind with the green foil twisted at the top and the soft center.

Eliot, who was sprawled out and enjoying the ample leg room of the back seat, wasn’t in the business of hiding his amusement as he watched Quentin drop a few of the candies into his pocket. “Sometimes there’s a wait for the next car so it can be a bother if you’re someone who can get through the main area undetected, but after that party last night, I’m not surprised folks are sleeping in,” El said.

Once Quentin had gotten past the excitement of the fancy car and the free sweets, he became noticeably distracted by Eliot’s long, skinny legs.

Lifting an eyebrow, Eliot let a knowing smile drape across his face as reached his left leg across the middle seat and gently nudged Quentin’s calf with his shoe. He smoothly pulled his phone out and tapped out a quick text, then waited for Q to receive it.

**El:** See something you like?

Quentin was grateful that the flirting had switched to texts since they were not alone in this car, but it didn’t stop him from feeling very seen as Eliot eyed him from across the back seat.

**Q:** I’ve um, never noticed how long your legs are?

Right; most Internet personalities have _legs_. Even with the occasional full body fashion shots on Eliot’s YouTube channel, Quentin hadn’t had the opportunity to notice just the miles and miles of them until, well, now.

**El:** You like that, don’t you?

**El:** Do you want to tell me how much? 

Quentin responded to that with a lovable eye roll and a look. He was perfectly aware of how much enjoyment Eliot got out of making him squirm. And to be honest, Q himself had to acknowledge the fact that this particular little trick of Eliot’s got him going as well. The pleasant twist in his stomach and warmth in his cheeks when El caught him feeling brave, feeling wanted, feeling _understood_... it was overwhelming in a really good way.

Just in time, however, Quentin felt the car turn and pull up to a loading dock around the back of the convention center. Maybe he would have a little fun with that particular request later.

Once they’d climbed out of the SUV, a staffer led them up to another VIP lounge where a small breakfast buffet and a bunch of comfy places to sit were waiting for them.

When they first arrived, Quentin and Eliot had the room mostly to themselves; El may have been correct about how tired and hungover everyone was. But as more folks shuffled in, Quentin learned something relatively quickly; Eliot knew everyone.

It was probably a consequence of being a natural socialite with a large audience and attending YouTubeCon year after year, but nearly every person who came in for breakfast spotted Eliot and stopped by their table to say hello to him. And every time, El lit up and managed to make each visitor feel special before neatly tying up the conversation and wishing them well.

Quentin was impressed, not just by Eliot’s ability to remember names and faces but also by the way he kept the conversations short and never managed to unintentionally encourage someone to stick around too long. El was a total pro at navigating the admittedly strange social landscape of a convention like this and Q just couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Quentin managed to convince Eliot to tag along to the Blind Date with a Book meetup a few BookTubers were hosting with the caveat that he could PDA the shit out of Q the whole time. Eliot was only joking, mostly, but it was so tempting to reach out and touch Quentin as he did one of the things that initially attracted El to him - talking about his love of books.

“So I just... add mine to the blanket?” Quentin asked, turning the brown paper-wrapped book in his hands absent-mindedly.

The organizers had set up a picnic blanket on the lawn outside the convention center that was slowly becoming filled up with book-shaped packages. As Q confirmed the directions, he walked over and placed his offering with the others.

In an unsurprising move, Quentin had chosen to buy a new copy of The World in the Walls, Fillory and Further Book One. He looked down at his work, rereading his handwritten hints for the hundredth time.

  * _Dynamic Sibling Relationships_
  * _Creative World Building_
  * _Recommended for anyone who needs a bit of an escape._



The first thing to break Q out of the anxious proofreading was Eliot’s big, warm hand, reaching up from behind and slipping into his. “Which one are you going to pick?” El asked, leaning his chin gently on the top of Quentin’s head as they both looked over the other paper-covered books waiting to be claimed. This way, there was no chance Q would judge a book by its cover.

“Just gonna see what speaks to me, I guess,” Q said quietly, still deep in thought. He felt Eliot intertwine their fingers and give his hand a soft squeeze.

In the end, Q was won over by the quick description, “For a nerdy, queer outcast” which turned out to be a copy of _Leah on the Offbeat_. Quentin, who loved _Simon vs._ and was looking forward to reading the sequel, happily dropped the paperback into his messenger bag to read on the plane ride home. He stuck around for a bit, chatting with other book lovers who came to the meetup and taking photos with any fans who spotted him there.

And since this wasn’t Eliot’s usual crowd, El managed to remain pretty far under the radar as he draped an arm around Quentin’s waist or traced circles on his shoulder. For someone who thrived in crowded social environments, Eliot was surprisingly content to just hang back and people watch while he held his boyfriend’s hand.

As the meetup came to an end, Quentin said goodbye to a few of the new friends he’d made and then pulled out his phone to look them up.

“Where to next, Fillory boy?” Eliot asked, linking his arm with one of Quentin’s. When he didn’t receive an answer right away, he turned to see Quentin furrowing his brow and staring intently at his phone screen. “Everything okay?” El checked in.

Quentin paused for a second as he glanced around the busy pavilion, then he looked up at Eliot, all worried eyes and forehead wrinkles. “Can we go somewhere less... this?” Q asked.

El might have joked about Quentin wanting to get him alone if he hadn’t been so concerned about Q’s sudden shift in mood. “Yeah, come on,” Eliot said, whisking him off into one of the nearby buildings and ducking them into a hallway off the beaten path. “What happened?”

Sitting down in a random folding chair that was up against the wall, Q brushed his hair back out of his face. He seemed a bit hesitant about it, but he eventually handed Eliot his phone.

Eliot kneeled down on the floor in front of where Quentin was sitting and turned the device so he could see the open app. It was Q’s notifications tab on twitter.

For a minute, El had to scroll back through a lot of posts that didn’t make any sense out of context. At first, he wasn’t even sure that most of these mean-hearted comments were directed towards Q. But then he made it to what appeared to be the start of the mentions and traced them back to the threads that inspired them, before Q was even tagged.

Someone had posted photos of Quentin and Eliot from across the open area outside the convention center. Apparently, the news that Quentin and Eliot were enough of an item to be canoodling in public was causing an uproar among the less tolerant of Eliot’s fans and they had taken to the internet to attempt to tear Q down.

_Who the fuck does this tiny dork think he is? @HighFashionEliot is way out of his league._

From there, a handful of self-identified Eliot fans who clearly felt some kind of ownership over him had launched into a linked web of tirades at Q’s expense.

_Dump his ugly ass, @HighFashionEliot. You deserve someone whose nonexistent sense of style doesn’t embarrass you in public._

The replies ranged from jealous to indignant to homophobic to downright cruel. Nearly every one ripped Quentin to shreds. Depressingly soon into the conversation, someone identified the mystery boyfriend as @QuentinReads, the mousy, stuttering children’s book nerd who had dared to collaborate with HighFashionEliot on his channel earlier that year. From that point forward, everyone kept tagging Q in their insults and verbal attacks which resulted in a lot of very hostile notifications on his phone. Eliot hadn’t even checked his own phone yet and already he felt overwhelmed by the idea.

Without even thinking about it, El started muting the offending users from Quentin’s account, even blocking a few who were especially pissing him off. This genuine, kind, sweet human should never have had to see what these people were saying about him; not when all he did was dare to hold his boyfriend’s hand in public. It occurred to El that the abuse might have moved to other platforms; it was pretty impossible to totally escape this stuff without disconnecting your wifi and on top of that, they were at an in-person event with at least the person who started the fire.

After about a minute, he looked up at Quentin who was purposefully avoiding eye contact. “Q. Baby, look at me,” Eliot said, putting the phone down on the hallway floor and taking Quentin’s hands in his.

Quentin tried to look tough, to keep breathing through the rush of embarrassment and anger and fear that was cascading through him. He turned to find Eliot looking so distraught and guilty that Q’s first reaction was to try to make _him_ feel better. “It’s... it’s not a big deal,” Quentin began.

“Bullshit. They don’t get to hurt you like that, just for loving me,” Eliot said, strong as ever. “And they’re wrong, also.”

Q looked back up at the ceiling, biting his lip as he tried to hold back tears.

Eliot knew from experience that the comments that affected Quentin the most were always the ones that Q agreed with, on some level. If they were truly off, Q could forget about them pretty quickly, but the insults that strengthened the constant negative voices in his head always hit him the hardest. Abusive comments did not play nicely with Quentin’s depression.

Quentin squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want to embarrass you,” he finally found the strength to whisper. “And I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide me,” Q added, quietly.

“You know I wouldn’t change a thing about you, right?” Eliot asked, giving Quentin’s hands a squeeze where he held them in Q’s lap. He sat down on the ground, intending to stay there as long as it took, no matter how dusty it made his slim cut trousers.

Eliot was quiet for a moment. He wasn’t sure what else to say at first. But like always, when he saw someone struggling, he instinctively allowed himself to be vulnerable with them. To lower the defenses around his heart, to show them that they’re not alone. They never were.

“I’ve never gone public about one of my relationships before,” El started.

That got Q’s attention. He looked up at Eliot again, listening.

With a deep breath, Eliot continued. “It’s not that I... intended to hide that I was with someone, but as soon as my audience started to show an interest in my personal life, I worried that anyone I shared with them would want to abandon me. And hey, big surprise, I ended up losing them anyway, all on my own,” El said. “Maybe it was the fact that I insisted on keeping them a secret or my preoccupation with someone finding out...”

“Why was today different?” Quentin asked.

El reached up and swept Q’s hair out of his eyes, dragging his thumb softly down the side of his face. “Would you believe me if I said I was so giddy about being with you, so excited to hold your hand and put my arm around you and kiss your shoulder... that I forgot?”

At that, Q laughed. It was a broken little thing that threatened to spill the tears in his eyes, but it was definitely a laugh.

“Q, I don’t want to lose you. If you’d rather we keep this quiet, hope they move on to some other drama tomorrow, I’d do it. A torrid, secret affair could be sexy. But, hell, I am beyond ready to fight them. Say the word and they will get a strongly-worded talking-to, from me and then Margo if necessary, and then we can go back to doing whatever the fuck we want in public,” Eliot stated as calmly as he could. “I can’t tell you not to be hurt by things. But I can tell you what I feel. And you certainly don’t have to do anything that might subject you to more comments like that.”

With a nod of understanding, Quentin let the smallest hint of a smile cross his lips. “What do you feel, if you don’t mind me asking?” he quipped. How things have changed since they were playing this game in the back seat of that SUV.

Eliot grinned. He placed his hands on Quentin’s knees and slowly started to slide them up along his lap so he could get closer. “I feel really damn lucky that I found you, Quentin Coldwater. You’re smart and sexy and honest and _good_. You make me feel like I’m going to catch on fire in the best way every time you look at me or text me or whatever; I don’t even need to be on the same coast as you to feel loved by you, that’s how radiant and warm and caring you are. And that’s not despite the fact that you’re a total nerd, it’s _because_ of it. Because you love things with your whole entire self; it takes over your whole body when you love something. I fell for that passion, that wholehearted dedication you put towards the things that matter to you. And I am so, so glad that you replied to my comment and gave me a chance because if you direct even an ounce of that energy toward me, I’m just,” and then Eliot took a second to dial it back ( _I’m just set for life_ , he thought) because this was getting too real, too fast. He eventually settled on, “That’s just more than I could ever hope for.”

With that, Quentin leaned forward and kissed Eliot on the mouth. His whole life, he’d been told that he loved too hard. He’d been made to feel like he needed to suppress it, to hold it back. And when his love got too big, to the point where he couldn’t control it any longer, he got hurt. Every time. Living in a world where his love was too much for people made Quentin feel like he would never find anyone who valued it. Who realized how special it was. Who wanted to send some back his way, even if it was smaller than his own.

And here was Eliot, kissing him back and holding him tight and dirtying up his incredibly nice pants on the floor of a convention center service hallway.

* * *

Eventually, Quentin had asked if they could go back to his hotel room and relax there for a while. He needed time before he could feel okay facing the public again, and Eliot, being a complete gentlemen, assured Q that there was nowhere he’d rather be.

They cuddled and talked and didn’t look at their phones once. Eliot used the hotel landline to call for some room service when they got hungry.

But when the sun started to set, Quentin realized what time it was.

“You should get ready for prom, El,” Quentin said, leaning his head on Eliot’s chest, propped up against the headboard of his hotel bed. “I don’t want you to miss it on my account - you had that whole video planned.”

Eliot was disappointed, but not really surprised. “You don’t want to go anymore?” El asked, trying to be understanding.

Q took a breath, then he sat up and turned on the bed so he could see Eliot better. “I was... kind of waiting to see if I’d gather up some courage by now,” he said, feeling pretty defeated.“I’ll be okay here on my own. You don’t have to worry about me,” Quentin added.

Reaching over to cup Q’s face in his hand, Eliot brushed his cheek with his thumb. “You sure?” El asked. It had been a few hours, and he could tell that Quentin was feeling better, but when faced with the reality of the situation, he didn’t blame Q for wanting to stay in.

Quentin nodded, then tilted his head to chase Eliot’s hand. “I’m sure. I’ve got a new book to read and everything. Send me some photos of you in your fancy prom clothes?” he asked.

“I’ll do you one better,” Eliot smiled, moving his hand down to Q’s shoulder and squeezing it. “I’ll come back here later and you can rip them off of me,” he laughed, all low and breathy.

That certainly cheered Quentin up.

A little while later, Julia came back to the room. She found Quentin in his natural state, curled up alone with his new book from the meetup.

If Eliot hadn’t gotten her number from Margo and texted her a heads up about the situation (okay, and begged her not to pressure him), she probably would have tried to encourage Q to go to prom. Instead, she dropped her purse at the door and grabbed two dresses from the closet.

“Okay Q, very important reading break. Which of these dresses should I wear to prom?” Julia asked, holding up one hanger in each hand.

Quentin lifted his head up over the top edge of his book, looking over the two choices for a moment. “The black one?” he said. Q seemed surprised that she wanted his input, especially since this was not his strong suit.

Julia smirked. “Thanks, Q,” she said before subtly putting away the black one and bringing the other option into the bathroom and shutting the door. Maybe the point wasn’t to get Quentin’s input after all.

For a second, Quentin seemed confused. Usually, Jules would have made some kind of comment about how he definitely wasn’t getting ready to go out, but she seemed surprisingly chill about the fact that he was reading instead. He closed his book and sat up on the bed, preparing to question her about it as soon as she had finished getting dressed.

The door opened after a few minutes, once Julia was decent. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for... not being weird about Margo sleeping over last night,” she said as she plugged her curling iron in and started to touch up her lipstick.

“I mostly just felt bad that I walked in unannounced. When you weren’t answering your texts I just figured that you were asleep... by yourself, I mean,” Q said, placing his book on the nightstand and scooting over to sit facing the bathroom. “Anyway, it seems like you’re happy? Like you had a good time? That’s all that matters,” he added, hand flailing through the air.

Quentin was all for Julia figuring out less familiar aspects of who she was attracted to. Although she hadn’t really discussed her sexuality with him before, his own bisexuality was something he had always been comfortable with, so it was pretty easy for him to be supportive.

“Yeah. It was fun,” she said with that quiet, unassuming smile of hers. “I don’t know if it’s going anywhere, but I’m glad it happened.”

As Julia finished freshening up her hair and makeup, she turned off the bathroom light and headed out into the main area to find her shoes.

“Sorry, um, aren’t you going to try and convince me to come out with you?” he asked, still not quite able to let go of the fact that Julia hadn’t said one word about his apparent lack of interest in prom.

Julia shrugged, then bent down to fasten the straps on her heels. “Do you want me to convince you to go, Quentin?”

* * *

“Alright, you’re next! Step onto the mark on the floor. You’ll get three poses, then hold still for detail shots,” Margo said to one of the dressed up YouTubers they’d roped into appearing in Eliot’s YouTube Prom fashion video just outside the venue. She took down their information in a note on her phone as she directed them over, then returned to her preferred spot next to where Eliot was operating a DSLR on a tripod. “So Q’s really not coming, huh?” she asked, taking advantage of the fact that they wouldn’t be using any audio from this part of the shoot.

“He was just starting to feel better when I left him earlier. I didn’t want to drag him back out unless he was ready,” El said, still laser-focused on the task in front of him, carefully documenting the person standing on the mark.

“I like him, El,” Margo said. “For you. He’s a good one.”

El let just the smallest hint of a smile sneak onto his face before he went back to his standard concentration face. He popped open the release switch on his tripod mount, grabbing the camera grip and stepping forward for some handheld closeup shots.

Margo stayed back, but continued the conversation. As always, the two of them often operatedas if they were the only people there. “How are _you_ holding up, El?” she asked, quieter this time.

He took one last detail shot for good measure, then muttered a quick, “Thanks! Feel free to head on in,” to his subject before he walked back to the tripod. He took a beat, considering his answer, then looked up at Margo. “I was really looking forward to being his prom date. To seeing him all dressed up,” he admitted honestly.

Something caught Margo’s attention out of the corner of her eye. “Well, here’s your chance, Romeo. Don’t fuck it up,” she grinned.

Eliot spun around, moving aside as Margo automatically took over filming the last person in line. And there, maybe twenty feet away, was the number one person Eliot wanted to see tonight.

Quentin... well, he tried. Really hard. When it took him a little longer than everyone else to decide that he actually did want to go, he had already missed the opportunity to accept Eliot’s help in the getting ready department. Julia did his ironing, made sure all of his buttons lined up, and straightened out his collar, but she lacked the benefit of having access to Eliot’s varied collection of extra accessories and the sewing kit he’d packed just in case of emergencies. Q’s gray suit didn’t really fit and his hair flopped into his eyes and he wasn’t even wearing a tie, but God, Eliot loved every inch of the sight in front of him because it was _Quentin_.

“Sorry I’m late,” Q said once he was close enough. He was so distracted by the fucking heart eyes Eliot was giving him that he almost forgot to offer El the flower he had been holding behind his back. “Do... do you still want to go to prom with me?” Quentin asked, pinching a line between his eyebrows.

Eliot’s face erupted into just the biggest smile. “Are you kidding me? Get over here, Coldwater,” El said, welcoming Quentin into his embrace.

Q went, more than willingly, grabbing hold of Eliot’s waistcoat and happily shivering against the long, long arms that wrapped around him.

“Can I kiss you? Out here?” Eliot whispered.

Quentin nodded. “Uh huh,” he said, lifting his chin as Eliot swooped down and brushed the softest lips up against his. Q still couldn’t get over the way El’s mouth felt and tasted.

Beautiful, delicious moments passed until they pulled apart and became aware that people on their way into the building were staring. Eliot was pretty much constantly on the edge of laughing, he was so happy. “Take a picture! It’ll last longer!” El called out to the random folks who probably had no idea who either of them were. That was one benefit of the large crowds at YouTubeCon; no matter how famous you were, there’s no way _everyone_ would recognize you.

“Actually, on that note,” Eliot continued as he reached for the inside pocket of his perfectly tailored jacket and pulled out his phone. He snapped a quick selfie with Quentin in his arms, then took a moment to add a caption. “Now tell me if this is too much and I won’t post it,” Eliot promised, biting his lip and narrowing his eyes as he made the finishing touches, then handed it over to Q.

Quentin’s eyes scanned the photo with text written along the bottom, then he smiled and began to read Eliot’s caption out loud. “I am fucking smitten with this nerd and if you have a problem with it, unfollow me,” Q read.

“Damn right, I am,” Eliot agreed with himself, then reached down to press a big old smooch right on Quentin’s hairline. “Do you want me to post it?” he made sure as he accepted his phone back.

“Yeah, do it,” Q confirmed, feeling braver than he had all day. “Whatever they throw at me can’t be worse than losing you.”

“On that note, do you want to be in my video?” El asked gently. “It’s totally fine if you don’t. We were just finishing up when you arrived and you’d make the perfect ending.”

Quentin blushed and looked down at what he was wearing. “Me? In a fashion video? I don’t know... do I look okay?”

El, who had already gotten a really good look at Q as he was walking up earlier, didn’t hesitate for a second. “You look beautiful, Q. You always do,” Eliot said with this wonderfully soft look on his face.

With that, Q took a leap of faith and made up his mind. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it,” Quentin said.

Eliot led him over to their setup where Margo was debriefing the last YouTuber who had signed up to be filmed and sending her on her way. “One more and then we can prom it up, Bambi,” El said as he brought Quentin to the mark on the ground.

“Excellent,” Margo replied with an approving smile as she double-checked that there was room on the SD card for an extra guest appearance.

“Permission to touch?” El asked, wanting to make sure it was alright before he started fussing over Quentin and his clothes.

Q laughed a little. “I don’t know if it’ll help, but go ahead,” he said, grinning something fierce as he let Eliot brush him off, smooth him out, and get him ready for filming. Quentin had always admired the way that Eliot dedicated such a detail-oriented sense of artistry towards his work. It felt really good to be the focus of that kind of care, even if it was only for a minute.

With a smile, Eliot took a step back. “I’ll take a few full outfit clips first, then come in closer to capture some details, alright?” El asked, making sure Quentin felt comfortable and knew what to expect.

After taking a moment to nod, Q suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. Or face. Or feet. Should he be posing? Eliot would tell him what to do, right?

As Eliot made some adjustments to his tripod, he started to talk as if he’d already planned exactly what he would say. “Hey Q, in your opinion, which of the Chatwin siblings has the most fulfilling character arc?” El asked, concentrating on the settings on his camera and glancing intently at the live preview screen.

For a second, Q was taken aback, as if this was not what he expected to be asked right now. What did a fashion video have to do with Fillory? Then, all at once, something clicked; Eliot wanted him to act naturally and to be comfortable in front of the camera. So he started to talk.

For maybe two minutes, Eliot filmed Quentin and his prom attire. The audio would eventually be replaced (and kept aside for Eliot’s personal enjoyment) but the video was a delightful look at someone who was clearly passionate, brilliant, and excited about something. Even his frantic hand movements as he contrasted the distinct journeys of Jane, Martin, and Rupert would eventually look great with the high frame rate Eliot has chosen so he could slow things way down in post.

Eliot eventually changed to a macro lens and stepped in close, documenting the weave of the suit fabric and the knot in his tie and the glint of light coming off of his simple cuff links and even the way the well worn leather in his shoes stretched as Q shifted his weight. Quentin even let El catch a quick clip of his face, obviously with him giggling because it felt very silly to a camera that close up.

As soon as he was happy with what he’d recorded, Eliot snapped the camera back onto the tripod and walked around to give Q a quick spin that made him laugh. They were going to a dance, after all.

If everything went as expected in the editing process, anyone who viewed this video would leave knowing _exactly_ what Eliot sees in Quentin.

As they headed into the venue together, the music grew louder and louder.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Eliot yelled, bringing his volume up so Quentin could hear him over the sound system. “Margo is adding all of them to her shit list. They’re going to regret their decisions very soon if they don’t leave you alone.”

Quentin considered this development for a second. “I actually feel kind of bad now?” he smiled, scratching the back of his head and completely messing up what Julia had managed to accomplish with his hair.

“Shh. Dance with me.” Eliot teased as he pulled a more than willing Quentin in close and started grinding up against him.

* * *

The next day, Eliot pulled his car up to the departures gate at LAX, switched on his hazards, and popped open the trunk. He had vehemently insisted that Quentin and Julia cancel their shuttle so he could drop them off at the airport himself, and they obliged. It wasn’t much of a contest.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Julia said as she pulled her suitcase out of the back of the car. “It was nice meeting you, Eliot. See you in a few months when you’re in New York!”

El gave her a quick wave as he walked around to the trunk and volunteered an extra pair of hands towards helping Quentin, who was wrestling with his luggage. “What do you have in here, bricks?” Eliot joked once the rolling bag was safely on the curb.

“Books,” Quentin responded, grinning proudly. “Mostly hardcovers.”

With a laugh, Eliot swept Q up in his arms. “You are adorably predictable,” he said. “And I’m really going to miss you.”

Q pouted, leaning up to kiss Eliot. When they stopped, he didn’t pull away. “It won’t be that long. Your flight to New York is in, what, three months?” Quentin asked, pressing his forehead against El’s for just a second before he rolled back on his heels. “I can’t wait to show you around my neighborhood.”

“I’ll work on getting us some broadway show tickets for the week I’m there,” Eliot said, brushing away a stray lock of Q’s hair with a quick maneuver of his fingers as he studied Quentin’s face up close.

For a minute, Q became really quiet. “We’re still gonna talk all the time, right?” he practically whispered, letting his mild fear and significantly less mild insecurity peek through.

“I am going to text you literally the second you walk away,” Eliot laughed.

Quentin went back in for a hug, squeezing him hard. “I’ll call you when I get home,” Q said, not wanting to let go. Luckily, they’d left really early so there was plenty of time for him to be clingy and sad before he needed to catch his flight back to New York.

Eliot thought he heard Quentin mumble something suspiciously close to I Love You into his shoulder. Then, they kissed one more time before Q turned and walked through the airport doors because if he didn’t now, he probably never would.

True to his promise, El pulled out his phone.

After Quentin dropped off his baggage and joined Julia in the line for security, his pocket buzzed. He smiled, knowing exactly who was texting him right now, and took his phone out while he had a few minutes to wait.

**El:** You know, I really was sad to see you go until I realized I’d get to watch your ass all the way to the check-in counter.

**Q:** Eliot!

**El:** What, I’m only human! Your rear end is seriously cute.

**Q:** Oh yeah? Well YOUR rear end is...

**Q:** You know, I’m realizing just now that my job is entirely on the internet and I don’t actually _need_ to live anywhere in particular.

**El:** ...That is a really good point.

**Q:** And I just, I don’t mean to put this on you if you don’t want your boyfriend of two days to move across the country to be closer to you but -

**El:** It honestly sounds pretty good right now because I know I’m going to miss you something fierce, but let’s revisit that life-changing decision once we’ve had some more time to think about it, yeah?

**Q:** Deal.

**El:** Alright, gotta go. Airport security has decided that I have overstayed my welcome in the drop-off zone. Have a safe flight, Q!

**Q:** Later, El.

“So did you get any good video for your channel this weekend?” Julia asked as they stepped forward, grateful that the security line was moving at least a little.

He thought about it, trying to remember what he’d had a chance to film. When it occurred to him, he started laughing.

Quentin Coldwater flew across the country for a YouTube convention and during all of that time and effort, he had only filmed a single forty-five second video clip. Years later, he would find himself wishing that he’d taken his camera out more so he could relive the trip as his memories grew blurrier. Thankfully, he had at least managed to capture the very first moment that he got to be in the arms of the love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It’s been super fun getting to combine two of my favorite things and I’ve really enjoyed reading all of your kind and enthusiastic comments.


End file.
